Monster Party Book 6: Only mortal trust or faerie dust
by James Firecat
Summary: An strange group of adventurers will have to visit a land that is even stranger still if they wish to stop a being more powerful than any foe they have ever faced before...
1. Chapter 1

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust...

Chapter one: A town where everybody's all the same, like a city full of zombies going by the same name.

"Boss, if he makes it back to the Shadow Rift, we're not going after him." Insisted a dirty blond haired man.

He was dressed in a fairly simple brown cloak, though it was possible to also see he had on a blue suit-coat with a red tie beneath it. His cold blue eyes were made frostier still by a pair of clear blue lenses he wore across them.

"Nobody, NOBODY knows what is in there! It could be like those stories of the places elemental supposedly come from, nothing but shadow. That means no ground to stand on, no food to eat, no water to drink just a lifetime of falling through shadow, not that you'd live all that long. Especially if there's no air to breath either." He continued wearily.

"It probably won't be that bad..." A younger brown eyed man countered.

He was dressed in a bright red jacket and pants with traveling shoes of the same color. A large wide brimmed red hat rested across his head which obscured the color of his hair.

"The joy of another 'I told you so' doesn't make up for the fact that it'll be my last one. If you're so certain we could survive then you can go in. My advice however is to send your girl instead, she'd probably be right at home." The dirty blond haired man insisted.

"Not if I'm the only one, I'd get lonely, by which I mean hungry." A woman shot back.

She had midnight black hair, spilling out from a simple white hat, and was dressed in a white jacket and black pants both cut along masculine lines, though this only ended up displaying more of her feminine figure than any normal dress would have.

Here eyes were concealed behind a pair of ruby red lenses which unlike Cal's had been designed to only be opaque in one direction.

"Cal, James, Mirri, we don't have to argue about this. I'll stand by my promise, if he's made it back to the Shadow Rift then we won't press the issue. We just owe it to Inquisitor Wyan and the others to make sure that Loht the so called 'Prince of Shadows' has learned not to interfere with the people of Tepest." Declared Alexander Diamondclaw, the group's leader.

He was a tall man dressed in a full body black outfit cut along vaguely martial lines with a few silver runes inscribed upon it. His blond hair fell down to his shoulders while his green left eye currently surveyed their surroundings for any sign of a trap or ambush. His right however was completely covered by a black eye-patch.

Callan "Cal" Wright a Lamordian alchemist (the frosty domain was known for producing as many scholars and artificers as it did rampaging golems and run a muck mechanical monsters) found little reassurance in those words.

"Just wanted to make sure we all understand the situation. I don't want to end up hearing 'we came this far we might as well try and go further' when the times comes." He grumbled still expecting the worst.

"The closest we'll come to the Shadow Rift is throwing distance, and I've seen Alexander throw things pretty far." Reflected Devi Skye.

She was a brown haired woman with brown eyes dressed in a close cut blue dress with a flail wrapped around her right arm, ready to uncoil and use at a moments notice.

"We'll hurl the Eye of Vhaeraun into the Shadow Rift and depart. Nothing more can be said on the issue." Declared Florence Bastien decisively.

She was a green eyed woman dressed in a similarly colored leotard like outfit who had decided to shave herself bald. What had once been a powerful tree limb had been repurposed to serve as a staff held loosely in her hands.

This particular group of adventurers last adventure had ended a great deal less decisively than most; the main villain they'd faced (an evil fey named Loht) had managed to escape, even getting his hands on some mystical sword he'd been seeking. The only good news was that he'd been rather badly injured in the process.

Not only had Loht escaped, but another major malefic artifact the group had come upon during their adventure had yet to be properly dealt with.

If inspected by hand in a room completely devoid of light the Eye of Vhaeraun was nothing but a simple round stone about half the size of a man's fist. In the light however it would appear as whatever the viewer most desired, inevitably making them wish to possess it, frequently to a homicidal degree.

Having sought wisdom from an aged Vistana they'd been told that since the Eye's power relied upon light, it could only be destroyed by casting it some place where it would never be seen.

In another situation this might have made for a rather complicated riddle, but luckily there was a decidedly literal answer on hand.

Where the nations of Markovia and G'Henna had once resided, there was now only a gaping chasm cut into the Core. This pool of inky blackness spread across geographical maps as if someone had accidentally spilled a bottle of ink on them. It was called the Shadow Rift, and no human being had ever managed to return from its dark depths.

While normally the Shadow Rift might only be good for insuring that Tepest would never need to fear the armies of Vlad Drakov (not that his previous invasion of neighboring G'Henna had met with much success) soon it would gain another, a sight for the destruction the Eye of Vhaeraun.

Before the group could worry about that though, first they'd need to pass through Briggdarrow, the last remaining town east of the Shadow Rift.

There they planned to resupply and see if the locals had any information which might help them track down Loht. As the six's conversation carried on, slowly the scent of woodsmoke began to fill the air as they finally emerged from the forest they'd been tramping through.

Laying ahead was a small cluster of buildings clinging to the murky shores of Lake Kronov. A more pleasant change from the forest's damp chill would have been difficult to imagine. A battered sign in the shape of a slender fishing bird welcome them to the village of Briggdarrow.

The village seemed a quaint enough place like most towns in Tepest, all the buildings were made of wood or thatch, and there was no house that had more than one story.

It was possible to see many fishermen busily carrying baskets containing the day's catch up from the shore while a number of cooking fires offered the tantalizing promise of a hot meal. Here and there various craftsmen worked to repair wagons, homes, or anything else in need.

The only thing odd about them was how odd they didn't find the new arrivals. The half a dozen adventurers were used to quickly becoming the center of attention wherever they went, and that was doubly so in a domain as paranoid as Tepest.

Here in Briggdarrow though no one seemed to pay them any attention at all.

"Hey, how much are the fish today?" James called out to a nearby fisherman who was at the moment walking in the shade of a large tree.

The fisherman said nothing, he didn't even bother to look in James' direction. The young red haired man began to pat down some of his pockets jingling the coins held within to try and get his target's attention.

"I said, how much are the fish tooooowwwwwoaaahh?!" His slightly louder repetition of the question gave way to a cry of shocked surprise.

James Firecat had traveled across nearly the entire Core (and even to some of the strange islands beyond) and was of a very passive temperament. It took a lot to surprise or unsettle him, but the fisherman managed to pull it off without even trying.

Because when he stepped out from the trees' shade, he the only thing that stepped out of it.

The man cast no shadow upon the ground.

"Mirri are you feeling hungry?" Alexander suddenly asked.

"Not in the least." The black haired woman replied to his apparent non sequitur with utter indifference.

Strangely reassured by her answer James drew a little closer to the fisherman who still refused to pay any attention to him.

Even in his brightly colored outfit and waving his hands around wildly still did nothing at all to make the fisherman acknowledge James' existence.

In the end he technically managed it by stepping directly in front of the fisherman, but only to the extent that the fisherman made the effort necessary to step around James before continuing on his way.

Looking at the town again with a critical eye it soon became clear that the fisherman was ominously par for the course. None of the residence of Briggdarrow cast shadows, None of them cared to acknowledge the group's arrival.

Instead they just went about their work in a vaguely inattentive, almost dazed manner. Their unblinking eyes stared at their chosen tasks without any sort of interest. Their work was slipshod and careless.

If they had looked more pallid and breathed less it would have been easy to believe that the entire town was filled with zombies of some form or another. As it was, Briggdarrow left the six with the strange impression of being the only ones awake in a town full of sleepwalkers.

"Florence if these people are all under some sort of magical enchantment, I'd like to know about it now rather than later." Alexander insisted.

Florence Bastien waved her hands around and chanted words in a language far more primal than any human tongue.

When she had completed the process she shook her head slowly.

"These people aren't under any sort of traditional human magical spell. That means we're unlikely to be effected, but there's nothing I can do for them..." She sighed heavily.

"You said it wasn't a human magical spell, do you mean…?" Alexander began.

"I'll need to see more before I can be sure." Florence cut him off.

The group decided to double back slightly and check out the first building that they'd come across, hoping they could discover more information about the bizarre state of Briggdarrow.

One look around inside the place proved that it must be the town's general store. Coils of rope lay in one corner, an assortment of tools hung on pegs next to the door, and bundles of candles dangled beside an open window.

The keeper of the general store was seated in an uncomfortable looking chair opposite the door. he was a sallow faced man wearing simple clothes and a leather apron. His salt and pepper hair was cut short and his face was coated with stubble, as if he hadn't bothered to shave recently.

Despite the fact that opening the door had caused a bell to ring the merchant only stared blankly ahead, taking no notice of the group. He like everyone else they'd closely examined in Briggdarrow cast no shadow.

"How much is the rope?" Devi asked, but the store's proprietor didn't bother to respond.

"He's got what looks like a cashbox..." Cal suggested his eyes focused on a wooden box with a lock on it sitting a foot or so away from the man.

"We're not stealing from people just because they're not able to realize we're doing it." Alexander insisted.

"Wouldn't think of doing it Boss, it is just cashboxes are important! There are coins inside, and if those coins aren't of a local make it might give us some clues." Cal pointed out.

The tall blond haired man sighed and then made a dismissive motion suggesting that he could think of no reasonable counter argument.

"Need my help?" James offered almost instantly gravitating towards the object in question.

"Not really, that lock looks like a toothless guard dog, more for show than defense." The alchemist insisted as he removed a few tools from his cloak.

Sure enough it took only a few seconds work (which the cashbox's owner remained completely and utterly oblivious to) to spring the lock.

Inside the box were forty coppers, two dozen silvers, and one gold coin. The coins had been struck in the style of the Horseshoe, the Spur and the Bridle, and given Tepest's somewhat backwards nature Nova Vaasan currency was about as close to "local coin" as one was likely to find.

There was also a small notebook inside the cash box and Cal began to eagerly flip through it. He found that like many books in the land of Tepest it was written Vassi, since the written form of Tepestani was still quite new and not very wildly spread.

"Hm, looks like a list of various people's names, who bought what, on what date, and how much they owe him." He explained to the others.

"When is the last entry dated?" Devi inquired.

Cal flipped to the end of the book, then started to flip back as there were many pages that were still blank and waiting to be filled in. Eventually he managed to locate the last page that had writing upon it.

"Four days ago." The alchemist answered before placing the book back in the cashbox and replacing the lock all with the expression of a magician very much upset over the fact they have been made to preform in short sleeves.

"So, shortly before Wyan's daughter was kidnapped. That's something at least..." The blond haired reflected, though being able to place a rough date on the start of the town's misfortune did little to clarify exactly what had happened to the people of Briggdarrow.

"Lets go inspect this town's church, whenever disaster strikes people tend to flee there..." Alexander suggested since it seemed that there was nothing more that could be learned from the small shop.

Luckily the church was not far at all from the general store.

It was not especially grand as one might expect from a minor village like Briggdarrow. Near the front of the building beneath a wicker dome stood a stone statue of a muscular man who was wearing seashell armor. He held a trident with a fish impaled upon it, and the man's expression was wise but also openly benevolent.

Alexander had no trouble at all recognizing the figure as Manannan mac Lir, the Tepestani god of fishermen and the sea.

Inside the temple looked anything but ordinary.

Briggdarrow's church was less well furnished than the one back in Viktal, it had chairs for worshipers to use instead of proper pews. Those chairs had all been cast into a haphazard pile around the central altar.

Dozens of guttered black candles covered the wooden floor, each at least three feet away from all the others. Scattered around these blobs of dark wax were some strange black crumbs.

"Florence?" Alex asked at once, not bothering to directly request what he wanted.

Florence Bastien for her part needed no further clarification, she repeated the necessary incantation having already used it once that day.

"Candles are magic, so are the crumbs." She answered confirming Alexander's suspicions.

"Whatever you do, don't eat the food, don't even touch it, nothing good comes from unknown magical food." Alexander advised his companions as he took a few cautious steps into the church.

He bent down next to one of the strange black candles and sighed heavily before straightening up.

"Magic candles, magic food, the way these people are behaving… they're elf-shot." He realized in surprise.

"Excuse me?" Devi Skye suddenly interjected seeming most upset by Alexander's choice of words.

"Sorry, they're shadow-reft. Except, this doesn't match any of the stories..." He lamented trying to make sense of the strange fate of Briggdarrow.

"Why don't you fill the rest of us in on what you know? Some of us come from sensible places where a man's shadow does the sensible thing and follows him around." Calla Wright offered.

Alexander retreated back out of the church as quickly as he could and only once he was completely outside its walls did he respond.

"I've heard this is what happens when some fey, the worst kind of fey, get interested in mortal demi-humans, in the worst way possible. They don't see us as people, just animals, and they're only interested in a horse so long as it dances.

They don't even have the decency to kidnap the entire person, they just take their shadow and in doing so hollow the person out. What's left behind… well look around and see for yourself." He reflected gesturing vaguely towards the citizens of Briggdarrow who continued to sleepwalk through their lives.

"Wait, so in this analogy, a person's shadow contains all of their emotions and personality? Shouldn't the shadow contain all of the things that a person doesn't like about themselves? Maybe everything that they won't admit is actually apart of themselves? Like for example Boss' shadow would contain the fact that he has such a huge tremendous ego. You know, because it is dark and follows them around no matter how they try to get rid of it..." The alchemist pointed out.

"Wrong again Cal, I am on amazingly good terms with my tremendous ego, it is one of my top ten best features." Alexander insisted.

"I once turned you into a floating gaseous version of yourself. After going through that experience, you're still expecting magic to obey the rules of your Lamordian logic?" The green clad woman pointed out.

"Do you promise not to turn me into a tree if I still say 'yes' to that question?" Cal ventured a touch timidly.

"Turn you into a tree? Now you're the one who is talking madness. Conventional magic doesn't allow for transformations that great." Florence offered by way of reassurance.

"It is simply too difficult because you're transforming an animal into a plant. What you should be worried about is the possibility of being transformed into another animal, like a beetle, ant, cockroach, termite, basically all manner of miniscule insects..." She added in a most unhelpful manner.

"Have I mentioned that I really hate magic yet today? Because now seems like a good time to do that." Cal whimpered, earning him a few scattered claps of approval from Mirri who had a similar dislike of the mystical arts.

"What matters..." Alexander coughed trying to bring the subject of conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Is that even the most foul hearted of evil fey wouldn't do something like this. They don't go stealing people's shadows because they like to cause suffering, they do it because they see some great skill and want to see it preserved. They think its a great honor!

My mother's stories were very clear on this point, only people of exception ability are chosen to be shadow-reft, something like one in a hundred at most. Why would they decide to steal the shadows of everyone in an entire village?"

"Maybe we'll be able to find some and ask them. Would you like to help me with the process Mirri?" Florence offered.

Somehow the lenses of Mirri's glasses seemed to sparkle even though it was impossible to see what was going on behind them.

"Oh, is this the 'fun Florence' I heard about? I'd love to help you ask questions! Some of my favorite are 'why are you hitting yourself' 'does this hurt' 'how about now' and of course 'I've heard massive blood loss can be transcendentally blissful experience, why don't you tell me all about it' that one's a personal favorite!" Mirri gushed with clear malice aforethought.

"One way or another we need to get to the bottom of this. Lets go explore the rest of the town, there are bound to be more clues if we look carefully enough." Alexander ordered.

End Chapter.

AN: I'm sorry, I forgot to include Rima's speech to the group about the Eye in the Epilogue chapter of the last book going to go fix that a little bit later but wanted to get a new book started/get a chapter posted.

Amusingly Cal offers a very Jungian description of what a person's shadow should represent ("amusing" since Carl Jung is German and Lamordia has some distinct German aspects to its language and in some ways its people/culture represent the "harmless/domestic Germanic Efficiency Stereotype" (as opposed to Falkovnia which represents a very different German stereotype...)) but since the magic ritual in question comes from an entirely different culture, he's understandably wrong. Not that I know of a person's shadow representing their vitality/personality in a lot of Irish myths, though I don't really know a lot of Irish folklore/myths either honestly.

Also Florence is entirely correct in so far as I don't know of any druid spells in D&D for turning other people into trees against their will. That said, Baleful Polymorph is a level 5 spell (meaning you only need to be a level 9 druid to cast it) which will PERMANENTLY (give or take dispel magic or similar, I'm just saying the spell never ends if you try to just wait it out) transform someone into an animal against their will, and if they're stuck in that form for over 24 hours (possibly even every 24 hours they stay in that shape the descriptive text ("If the subject remains in the new form for 24 consecutive hours...") is less than perfectly clear) they need to make a will save, and if they fail then they become whatever they've been turned into mentally as well as physically. Keep in mind that even with the arcane magic equivalent of Polymorph Other you don't have to worry about mental changes….

Baleful Polymorph, because wizards will be happy to just charbroil you to a crisp, but druids won't think you've suffered enough until you've learned something from the experience.

Florence luckily isn't the type to transform people into insects and then squish them… but it's something that can happen to you in Ravenloft if you piss off the wrong person. She also to her credit knows the other major counter charm against such spells (besides both regular and greater dispel magic which she knows on general principle) which is "Control Shape".

Control Shape first showed up in Ravenloft Gazetteer I (1) and it's a 4th level spell that lasts for an hour per level of the caster, it causes any person who is suffering from a transformation against their will (so can be baleful polymorph, similar spells, or lycanthropy) to instead gain the ability to transform between whatever shape they used to be and the shape they were turned into as a standard action as many times as they wish.


	2. Chapter 2

Monster Party Book 6: Only mortal trust or faerie dust...

Chapter two: This year has been a little crazy for the Andersons...

"I think we've found our next source of clues." Alexander Diamondclaw declared happily as he inspected the inside of another of Briggdarrow's many homes.

Cal Wright took one look around the place and couldn't help but snicker.

"Of all the random buildings in this entire town, you pick out the distillery on your first try. Are you proud of yourself Boss?" The alchemist asked.

"Yes. Yes I am. Distilleries are important. Someone might have tried to seal themselves in a wine cask when whatever happened to this town took place." Alexander insisted.

Then he casually pulled out a few golden coins and dropped them on a table in lieu of paying the currently missing proprietor.

The interior of the building was home to two pyramids of wooden kegs stacked upon each other. The thick scent of hops and fermentation made the air noticeably more humid than it was outside. Shelves along the walls carried jugs marked as "ale" or "mead" which drew Alexander's attention.

Having heavily overvalued the stock by any reasonable estimation, the blond haired man felt no shame about pouring himself a swallow of each substance.

"So can you tell how long it has been since they were made by tasting them?" James Firecat inquired eagerly.

"Mainly I was just testing if they were any good." Alexander replied honestly.

Then his left eye suddenly focused on a section of the floor intently.

He poured out another serving of the liquor, this time directly onto the floor, and watched as it seemed to vanish far too quickly for evaporation to be the cause.

"There's a trapdoor in here. Let's get it open and see what someone was trying to hide..." He ordered his companions.

They all got down on their knees, and carefully worked out the dimension of the trapdoor before gently lifting it up to reveal a staircase leading downwards.

Alexander was the first one to descend into the darkness and a few moments later his voice echoed upward to those who had remained behind.

"This… this can't be! I've never seen something so horrible!" Alexander Diamondclaw cried out in tones of shock.

The prospect of something managing to break Alexander's normally stoic calm was more than enough to send James Firecat shooting down the trapdoor with a dagger in either hand, precariously balancing on the lader rungs with his feet alone.

Below the brewery he found only a cool moist basement where a hanging lantern providing more than enough in the way of illumination. Its walls were adorned by shelves stacked with glass bottles that Alexander was examining in great detail.

"Nova Vaasa 717, Barovia 580, Darkon 688, a G'henna 715!" He exclaimed.

"Uhh, Alex what is the matter?" James asked in considerable confusion.

Alexander put down the bottle he had picked up and banged his head against the wall in exasperation.

"The point of a private collection is that you drink it! This though, if there was a darklord of distillery, this is what sort of a collection the Mists would curse them with! Each of these bottles is a crime against fermentation! Just look, for yourself, here's a Falkovnia 694, might as well poor it back into the horse it came out of!" The blond haired man spat in disgust.

James returned the daggers to the sheaths sewn into his jacket that he had drawn them from.

"Really?" Was all he could bring himself to say.

"Indeed, really Alex?" Florence Bastien added a few moments later when she descended down into the cellar as well and saw what he was raising such a fuss over.

"Look, this is important. Not worth purchasing, but important. The person who ran this distillery was a distinctly mediocre brewer with truly horrible taste in vintages.

In short, they were completely and utterly unremarkable and devoid of any obvious exceptional talent. There's no reason why an evil fey should have left them shadow-reft." He insisted.

"When Alexander is right, he's right." Devi Skye commented looking down into the basement.

Alexander returned the latest bottle he'd been examining to its shelf with a look of contempt that suggested he would have been doing its owner a favor if he'd smashed it to pieces instead.

"So have we found anything which suggests someone might be sealed in one of those big casks, or are we done here?" Mirri Catwarrior asked, having no interest at all in wine or other alcoholic products.

"Given the way the pyramids are still stacked I don't think it's worth taking them down and checking them. If anyone hid in them at the time of the disaster they're long gone. Lets go see if we can find an inn, that's probably the next most important gathering place in this village." He advised the group.

XXX XXX XXX

It wasn't especially hard to locate the local inn, the Spider's Web was the only building in Briggdarrow which bothered to have a sign outside announcing its name.

The building itself seemed nice enough from the outside, though it had a slightly weathered look which suggested it'd been in operation for decades. Inside there were even a few brass finishing and well-polished mirrors that made the place look more elegant than one would expect from a small village like Briggdarrow.

In the common room a dozen glassy-eyed, oblivious, and shadowless people sat a table eating. They did so with the slow methodical movements, and the meal itself seemed to be little more than a few recently picked plants, mashed potatoes and lumps of bread.

There was a man sitting behind the desk to welcome travelers, but he'd lost his shadow and most of his situational awareness just like all those around him.

Alexander made sure to drop a few more coins by the man in case they needed rooms later. After that the group took the time to search each of the inn's rooms, hoping they might be lucky enough to find somoene who could hold a conversation.

Sadly just like those out in the common room, all the patrons and employees they found were shadow-reft.

"This is getting real boring real fast..." Muttered Mirri in irritation.

"Normally when evil monsters have overrun a town you at least have lost of corpses. This time though, I'd say all you've got is a bunch of walking corpses, but that would be an insult to some perfectly personable zombies I've met..." She reflected while shaking her head in exasperation.

"When we find the ones responsible for this, they'll pay for what they did to these people." Florence Bastien insisted.

"I like 'Fun Florence' you should let her out more." Mirri declared, her face suddenly alight with a wide smile and thumb flipped upwards in support.

"Where should we check next?" Devi inquired.

"I'm out of 'great' ideas at the moment, so lets start checking places more or less at random.

We should keep our eyes peeled for any places which has to do with metalwork though, they might have produced weapons that could be used against the evil fey..." The blond haired man suggested.

XXX XXX XXX

The first such building they managed to locate was the town blacksmith.

It was surprisingly well appointed given the size of the town. A large forge and bellows dominated the place, with a wude assortment of iron wares ranging form horseshoes to pots and pans for sale.

The blacksmith like most such men was powerfully built, and sure enough he was shadow-reft.

He currently labored over a great anvil, trying to batter some unrecognizable lump of metal into who knew what. Every so often he would carry it from the anvil back to his forge, in the process failing to realize that the forge itself was stone cold.

It was either that, or he simply couldn't bring himself to care. There was nothing of great interest to be found inside the building and the group soon departed leaving the poor blacksmith to his equally endless and fruitless task.

XXX XXX XXX

After checking a few perfectly ordinary homes they next managed to locate a tinker's home/workshop.

Its workbench was littered with scraps of metal, an assortment of tools and a half a dozen partially completed drinking steins. Chairs and other tables had been overturned or smashed, suggesting there had been a brawl or battle inside recently.

An overturned glass jar lay on the floor near the workbench and a large pool of dried ink stained the floor. Unlike the blacksmith's shop there was no sign of its owner, either he was one of those at the inn eating or he'd suffered a fate worse than being shadow-reft, if such a thing existed.

"I'm surprised you found the blacksmith first." Cal chuckled looking at the nature of some of the tinker's last projects.

"I've got a keener sense of smell than most men, so I can pick out the scent of alcohol at a considerable distance. That said, I don't have some sort of unerring sixth sense for all things drinking related. These things look like they've never held anything other than air." Alexander shot back as he leaned over the bench and examined the steins in a little more detail.

"Hello..." He suddenly added in excitement before using his right hand to lift up one of them up and flipped it over.

A small piece of parchment drifted out that Alexander's left hand grabbed up before it could hit the ground.

Unfolding the hastily scrawled and crumpled missive he began to read aloud to the others.

"I hope that this note will fall into the hands of men, not the dread folk that have attacked our village. I do not know who or what they are, but never have I seen warriors so skilled. Even the strongest of our folk seem no match for these dancing men.

For some reason, they are taking care not to slay the fallen. When someone falls he is dragged off by these berserkers. What foul fate might befall him later I cannot say.

I hear them coming, so I must hide this note. I will offer what resistance I can, but these limbs are old and my heart weak. I fear that I will not even live long enough to discover what happens to the captives…." Alexander read.

"Dancing men?" James piped up in confusion, unable to understand how performers could be much of a threat to an entire village.

"The worst of the worst among the evil fey typically fall into four types: bogies, who live for the hunt, redcaps who live for pain, shades who live for death, and then there are dancing men, who live for battle.

Except this makes even less sense… the dancing men are interested only in conflict, and only in demi-humans who can offer them some sort of challenge. Everything I've ever heard about them, it says they want warriors of the finest calibur, they'd never leave shop keepers and craftsmen shadow-reft..." Alexander explained.

"Somebody or something must have been ordering them to do it." Devi suggested.

"Which means something or someone who can impose order upon the dancing men made such the effort just to collect the shadows of a bunch of ordinary villagers. None of the pieces of the puzzle fit together..." Alexander growled in frustration.

There was a sound vaguely liking the ticking of a clock, but less regular, deeper and louder.

Turning in its direction the group saw that the noise was coming from Mirri who was slapping her tongue against the inside of her mouth.

Noticing that she'd drawn the attention of the others she cocked a hand to her ears.

"There's something out there somewhere that isn't like the others. Everyone we've met in this village has had a heartbeat so steady you could set your timepiece to it. This one though, much more irregular..." She insisted.

No one questioned this information, Mirri had the keenest ears in the group, especially when it came to heartbeats.

"Lets go back outside very slowly and casually as if we don't expect to see anything..." Alexander suggested and indeed the group did slowly depart from the tinker's shop.

Outside there was almost nothing interesting to see.

Still, for just a fraction of a sectiond it was possible to spot something that had eluded them since they first entered Briggdarrow; an unknown creature's shadow. Something had darted around a corner and out of sight just as the group exited the shop, and whatever it was, it wasn't another of the town's many shadow-reft.

"James, Mirri, fetch." Alexander commanded gesturing in the necessary direction.

Neither of his companions needed further instructions.

"Lets go get em Kitten..." Mirri declared, licking her lips before she took off racing.

Mirri Catwarrior blazed across the ground moving swifter than any would have expected possible, her limbs pumping with a machine like complacency, as if running full tilt required no more effort than standing still.

James Firecat followed close on her heels, he started out running just like Mirri, but as he moved, his body began to transform. His posture changed from running upright to pressing himself off against the ground with his hands in a quadrupedal hustle.

Thick red hair began to grow across his body, then both his gloves and boots seemed to recede into his flesh making way for his growing hands and feet. The clothing closer to his chest began to be absorbed more and more with every passing moment.

His mouth began to elongate slightly in order to make room for more fearsome pointed teeth. A crimson tufted tail emerged from the base of his spine, twisting in his wake as he ran, and helping him keep his balance.

As he spun around a building his hands and feet suddenly extend wickedly curved claws. They struck no foes flesh, and instead only bit into the dirt helping anchor the young werecat's body and twist him through the turn. No sooner had he finished reorienting himself then the claws retracted and he struck out at high speed again.

Mirri had managed to gain an early lead over James, but now that he'd completed his transformation he was able to close the distance between them. James Firecat's keen eyes and Mirri's keen ears could both detect proof of their quarry.

It was a small figure, and it used that smallness to its greatest advantage. It wove between carelessly abandoned carts, darted through a few small buildings, eluding them at every possible turn. It knew the terrain well, but it had not reckoned with the sheer implacability of Mirri Catwarrior and James Firecat.

Both of them had been well trained by Alexander, and the pair did not flag in the slightest even as Mirri could hear their prey's breath growing more ragged.

"Give me a lift?" James asked, though his voice was slightly mangled by his no longer fully human mouth.

"Sure thing." Mirri replied at once.

As the pair spun around another corner James jumped into the air, his body transforming a second time.

Now all traces of humanity fell from his form as his body grew more compact and feline with every passing moment. By the time he landed in Mirri's hands, he was nothing more than a red furred unusually large house cat.

A house cat who Mirri tossed at their target, her powerful arms propelling the lycanthrope forward even faster than his own legs could have.

His small body struck the one they'd been chasing with speed and force enough to drive it to the ground.

Being tossed forward had given James his first proper look at who and what he and Mirri had been chasing. That was why he'd made sure that his claws were sheathed when he struck.

"I think we overdid it..." James admitted at once, to those who could still understand him.

His vocal chords were now limited to those of a house cat, but he'd spent a great deal of time with Mirri helping her learn to interpret such sounds.

A small hand grasped awkwardly in the dirt seizing a knife that had slipped loose when James had landed atop of him.

A desperate hand raised the blade for a moment, but then the hand slowly relaxed.

"You're not so much of a much..." The young boy admitted, unable to take James seriously as a threat in his current shape.

"Must have been my nerves, you looked a lot bigger when you were chasing me..." The young boy insisted while James began to surreptitiously start cleaning his paws.

"I could say the same." Mirri pointed out as she finished catching up to the pair.

Instantly the boy raised his knife (which looked as if it had been made more for a kitchen table than a battlefield) at her, waving it (what he imagined to be) threateningly.

"Stay back, you may have gotten the others but you won't get me!" The boy protested, his voice a terrified squeak.

Mirri sighed, and slowly raised her hands. Not in any sort of placating gesture to show they were empty (besides Mirri had dispatched countless far more formidable foes without any man-made weapon) but instead to fiddle with her glasses.

It took her about ten seconds of concentrated effort but she managed to finally tease the legs free from their looping grip on her ears and remove the spectacles.

Her ruby red eyes now gazed deeply into the boy's terrified blue eyes.

"We're not trying to hurt you..." She whispered softly.

"You're not trying to hurt me." The young boy repeated slowly as if he didn't quite believe it.

"I wouldn't hurt a child. Besides, if the cat trusts me shouldn't you?" She offered crooking a finger in their direction.

James eagerly jumped into her waiting arms yet again, and she began to stroke him gently as he in turn began to purr.

"I should… I should trust you..." The boy agreed, hesitantly lowering the knife.

"My name is Mirri, what is your name?" Mirri inquired gently.

"Kian McCollin." He answered in a voice that was mostly a dreamy drawl, but Mirri didn't much care if people she was interrogating really liked her or not.

What mattered was that once they'd fallen victim to her vampiric charm gaze, they'd freely tell her all but their darkest secrets, and those also if she made a serious effort.

"Why were you spying on us Kian, that wasn't a very nice thing to do..." Mirri pointed out.

She would have wagged a finger in the young boy's face but at the moment caressing James' fur was keeping both of her hands occupied.

"I thought you were more of the long haired ones and their beasts out hunting for me..." He insisted awkwardly.

"Long haired ones? Beasts?" Alexander Diamondclaw asked, as he, Devi, Florence, and Cal managed to catch up with them.

"It all started three nights ago… The beasts came first, they were black as midnight with eyes like burnin' coal and breath like the fires o' damnation. All the men o' the village took up arms against them, but 'twere no good. Swords and knives and all, nothin' could harm them." Kian explained.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he suddenly began to cry.

The sheer horror of what he had been through was evidently powerful enough that even Mirri's gaze couldn't dampen the depths of the emotion.

At least it couldn't do that while he was averting his gaze to look down at the ground and cry.

Mirri got down on her knees and more or less pressed James tight against the young boy's chest, the werecat purring as loudly as he possibly could. The young boy's hands closed around the feline form out of reflex, while Mirri used her right hand to tilt Kian's chin upwards so that they could make eye contact once again.

"It'll be all right… we're here now." Mirri promised Kian.

"Thanks..." He blubbered, using one hand to holding the purring cat tight while the other tried to wipe away his tears.

"After the beasts, then came something even worse! I thought you were some of them when I first saw you, but your hair isn't long enough…

They all had long hair, and giant swords, and their laughter hurt my head! When my mum seen them comin', she stuffed me and my sis, Arla, into a pair o' barrels." He explained.

"What kind of barrels?" Cal couldn't help but ask.

"Ignore him." Alexander insisted, delivering a gentle elbow to the alchemist's midsection before he insisted on blurting out his leader's previous theories.

Kian did indeed continue.

"After that, I heard an awful lot o' howling' and sounds o' fightin'. It went on for hours… I guess I musta fallen asleep or fainted, or somethin'. Twas real quiet when I woke up, so I decided to crawl out of the barrel and have a look around.

At first I thought ev'rythin' was okay, but then I see the truth. Ev'ryone was actin' like they was asleep or somethin' even me mum and dad! Then I noticed that no one had a shadow anymore. When I saw that, I run and hid I did.

I been hidin' ever since. When I saw you pokin' around I thought maybe you were more o' those wild men or mebee friends o' theirs. I'm sorry that I gave you such a long chase afore..." The young boy apologized.

"You mentioned your sister, where is she?" Alexander inquired, realizing that there was an obvious hole in Kian's story.

"Well, after I crawled out of that barrel, and made sure everything was safe...ish, I went and got Arla outta her barrel. We tried to talk to me folks, but 'twere no good. After a day we' just about gi' up hope of anyone comin' to set things right.

Figurin' that those strange men would come back sooner or later we set ourselves to decidin' what to do next. I wanted to take a boat across the lake, but Arla was afraid o' the Avanc. She said that we oughta go inta the woods and try to find the White Lady.

I told her she was crazy, the woods is full o' goblins, and we get kilt. That's when Arla and me got into a big fight. I haint seen her since just after noon, I think she must've gone into the woods. I guess…. I guess I best be going after her." He reluctantly reflected.

"White Lady?" Florence seized on that name, wanting to know more.

"I've never seen the White Lady meself, but them as has say she's beautiful as a spring lily. Some of the kids in town, the little ones like Arla, think she's one of the wee folk come to live among us.

They say she grants wishes to them what can find her cottage. Once me mum seen her out in the forest… she had a bird on her lap, just sittin' there as quite as can be. Mum says she seen her pettin' and talkin' to that bird, just like 'twas a person, but when she noticed someone watchin', she up and disappeared she did." Kian told them.

Alexander looked at the sun, and didn't need to tilt his head in the slightest.

"It'll be dusk soon. Kian, as much as I'd like to help you find your sister, I think we will have to wait till tomorrow. There aren't many things in any woods that scare me, but going into them in the dark is a surefire way to get lost." He awkwardly admitted.

"You're probably right…. But what if those men and their beasts come back to town tonight?" The young boy worried.

"We'll see them off, I promise you that. In fact, you can sleep in our room rather than a barrel tonight." Florence offered.

"Our room?" Alexander spluttered, clearly far from sold on that particular idea.

Florence shot him a pointed glare and he quickly decided to terminate this argument before it progressed to the point that while Kian was allowed to sleep in the same room as Florence, but he wasn't.

End Chapter.

AN: Some of you may have noticed that something happened to this story. Yes it did originaly have a different song lyric/title. I changed it because by pure chance I found one that fit it much better. Ionly wish I could end up doing the same thing for Book 4, but that one is sort of a lost cause at this point.

The joke behind the collection of bottles that Alex finds is that they are all belong to years when that particular domain suffered from a major event/upheaval/war or similar disruptive event. Understandably people would have had more important things on their minds than brewing at such a time, like Barovia being invaded by their vastly larger, richer, and just generally more powerful neighbor Darkon for example. That, or Nova Vassa dealing with a cult/crime ring, or Darkon suffering from a horrible plague, or Falkovnia engaging in a massive (if fruitless) invasion of Darkon, or G'Henna having to deal with their religion getting overhauled when certain unfortunate things happened.

Just to be clear, Alexander Diamondclaw takes his drinking very seriously, he has a huge constitution score so it is the next best thing to impossible for him to actually get drunk. That means Alex HAS to care about how what he's drinking tastes/how "good" it is. He can't take the opinion of "well its rotgut, but the bad taste is worth it so long as it gets me drunk" because, well it won't, it will just leave him with unhappy taste-buds and no noticeably change to his mental facilities.


	3. Chapter 3

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust...

Chapter Three: She's cold and she's cruel, but she knows what she's doing.

The cool night air was punctuated only by the cries of night birds and the distant howls of wolves.

It seemed that whatever menace has claimed the shadows of Briggdarrow's inhabitants had gone onto other feeding grounds. Still, there was something foreboding in the air, something that promised death… or worse.

In the distance a terrible baying began to carry through the night. At first it seemed to be the mundane howling of wolves, but then a more sinister and macabre tone began to emerge.

No earthly wolf ever made so baneful and haunting a sound.

Worse than that was the undeniable way that the cries drew nearer with each passing second, meaning that whatever was making those sounds would soon arrive.

Worser yet was that these sounds were being made at the strange time three or four hours before dawn that many honest humans never experienced in their lives except possibly when caring for newborn children.

Alexander Diamondclaw had been awakened from his sleep by the howls, his single green eye quite baleful itself at the moment. Since Kian had been sharing the room with him and Florence he'd gone to bed fully dressed, which at least gave him fewer tasks to worry about.

He slid Wolfclaw's sheath (along with the blade itself) on over his shoulders then headed out of the inn getting ready to 'greet' these new arrivals.

"You know… it really shouldn't be this hard for a man to get a good night's sleep." The blond haired man grumbled to himself.

He wasn't the only one to have been awoken by the howling, Mirri Catwarrior and James Firecat were also awake and outside, their bodies poised and waiting for the inevitable assault.

"Let me handle them, if I do it frequently enough maybe word will start getting around and people will be polite enough to only try and murder me at a reasonable hour." Alexander declared, his eye gazing into the darkness, looking for any concrete sign of the approaching monsters.

He got his 'wish' soon enough as a full half a dozen canine shapes bounded out of the darkness, they were slightly larger with wolves with jet black fur and blazing red eyes. Every single breath they took filled the air around them with fowl smelling dark mist.

Alexander sized up his foes, tilted Wolfclaw to the side slightly and smiled.

"Could be worse." He noted with a shrug as the longsword slid free from its scabbard into his waiting hands.

Two of the huge coal black monstrous dogs leaped at Alexander with teeth bared paws outstretched.

They were both dead before they hit the ground.

Wolfclaw's shining blade had slashed through the dark night air with brilliant speed and bisected both of the canine monsters as if they were made of paper rather than flesh.

Sword in hand Alexander faced down the other four which began to warily start to circle him.

"You've have your orders and you'll follow them, so get this over with. Come at me and die for you masters!" He taunted the beasts.

In response one of them drew in a deep breath and then blew forth a blast of fire.

It swallowed up Alexander Diamondclaw completely.

Then it pressed onward as fire always does, and a moment later the blond haired man cleaved the monster's skull from its shoulders.

Though he and been swallowed by flames, he'd proved too tough morsel for them to devour. Clearly both Alexander and his outfit had been granted magical protection which saw him in good stead against the beast's flames.

That left only three of the beasts for him to worry about. One of them tried to leap at Alexander's back as soon it realized he'd survived the other beast's breath attack. That gave the blond haired man entirely too much time and in another clean slice Wolfclaw claimed its fourth victim tearing the beast's belly wide open.

The last two monstrous dogs attacked him simultaneously from opposite sides. One of them promptly died as swiftly as its companions.

The other however managed to complete its journey, dragging Alexander to the ground, and causing Wolf Claw to slip from his fingers in the process.

The beast's murderous jaws dove towards Alexander's neck, but a single black gloved hand rose up to meet them. Alexander's right hand managed to hold the monster back for a few moments, time enough for his left hand to complete its task.

Then his entire body surged with power and his arm forced the monster's head still further up, before Alexander leaned in, and used his own suddenly sharp teeth to tear out the monster's throat, just as it had sought to do to him.

Alexander spat out the fowl tasting flesh, stood back up, retrieved Wolf Claw, (returning it to its sheath) and otherwise readjusted his outfit. That done, he turned to once again to gaze in the direction that monsters had come from. The hunting beasts had been dealt with, but their masters would be coming for them next.

XXX XXX XXX

Kian McCollin left the safety of the inn his own curiosity getting the better of him. He couldn't help but watch as the ominous figures emerged from the trees into the moonlight.

They had skin pale as could be, pointed ears, each one of them gripping a pair of shinning curved blades. They were dressed in simple looking kilts and tunics that neither offered them protection from their foes blows nor impeded their movements. Their long brown haired flowed out behind them as they moved.

"Dance with us..."

"Dance with us..."

"Dance with us..."

They each called out one by one.

"Can I Sir, can I?" Mirri Catwarrior pleaded with Alexander Diamondclaw.

The blond haired man half drew his sword for just a moment and then firmly shoved it back into its sheath.

"You can handle them as you see fit." He agreed.

"Keep them alive though! I need them alive!" Insisted Florence Bastien.

"Huh, guess 'fun' Florence isn't nearly as fun as I thought she would be. All right, if you insist I'll try not to kill them..." Mirri declared sounding far too calm about the subject.

Kian watched as the black haired woman stepped forward on her own to faced eight of the pale skinned fiends who had overwhelmed his entire village. As she approached all of a sudden her slow steady movements became disrupted and jerky as she broke into a wild jig.

"Dancing magic... cute, oh I'm a blind also, that's fun." As Mirri spun as if twirling an invisible partner she suddenly pulled forth a piece of cloth from her outfit and wrapped it tightly around her own eyes, even as the dancers started to spin themselves in tighter and tighter circles around her.

"So I hear you boys and girls like to dance, don't worry I've got room on my card for all of you. Just let me get properly outfitted for the occasion." As she was forced into another magical twirl Mirri tossed aside her hat, and her jacket leaving clad in only the simple white shirt beneath.

She threw an extravagant bow to the creatures that surrounded her.

To Kian's surprise the dancing men bowed right back to her in preparation for the 'dance' to come between them.

"Almost ready, there's only one thing left I require, James a little music if you please?" James Firecat nodded and blew into his harmonica.

Almost instantly Kian found his ears buffeted by far more sounds than any one instruments should have been able to produce. The music continued even when James removed his lips from the harmonica and began to sing in a vibrant but inexperienced voice.

"Her breath began to speak, as she stood right in front of me. The color of her eyes was the color of insanity..." Mirri's foes seemed to only too pleased to have music by which to do their fighting and advanced in time with the beat ready to slice her to pieces.

Their attacks came faster than Kian's eyes could follow, the movement of their arms becoming nothing more than blurs of speed.

"Crushed beneath her wave like a ship I could not reach her shore!" James called out as Kian making a shocking discovery.

As fast those dark dancers were... Mirri was faster still.

She did not even blur, and while Kian could at least tell what the dancers were doing (if not see them doing it) when Mirri wanted to, she moved so fast that she seemed to simply vanish. One moment she had been in the middle of a circle of dancing foes who had turned to plunge their blades inwards, the next she was throwing off a dismissive curtsey from several feet outside the ring of flesh of steel they had woven around her.

"Your hearts beat so loud I can hear it even over the music..." Mirri mocked them.

"We're all just dancers on the devil's dance floor!" As he watched all of a sudden Mirri's white gloves began to glow with strange luminescence as if fey lights had decided to bless her fists.

"Heh, now that we've both a feel for the beat, lets make this interesting..." Mirri announced playfully licking her lips.

"We love interesting!" One of the dancers declared while licking their blade eagerly.

"You move fast, but can you strike with any skill?" Yet another asked blades flashing wildly.

The dancers came forward once again, and their 'prey' came to meet them. Mirri's was still dancing, but her movements were no longer jerky as if her limbs were being compelled to movement by some greater force, no now there was a vibrant energetic confidence in her steps.

Birds flew, fish swam, cats stalked, Mirri Catwarrior danced.

"Well swing a little more, a little more 'oer the merry-o. Swing a little more, a little more next to me. Well swing a little more, a little more 'oer the merry-o. Swing a little more, a little more next to me!" James continue to sing as he and his companions simply stood back and let Mirri fight on her own.

The eight dancing figures met Mirri, and the music gained additional percussion. It was supplied by Mirri's fists shattering bones all but perfectly in time with moments in the song when the drums beat their loudest. Already one of the black dancers lay upon the ground, his nose broken all traces of sense driven from his body.

She withdrew away from them and raised up her gloved hands kissing them dramatically.

"Flit like a dragonfly, slay like a dragon." Mirri vowed.

In response the dancing men slammed the swords together in approval.

"Pressed against her face I could feel her insecurity..." James sung as Mirri spun in among the dancers, and two of them thrust their blades at her.

With bizzare ease, she grabbed their wrists and jerked, causing them be yanked forward and slice into one another one's shoulders. Then she twisted their arms until they snapped making them drop their blades.

"Her mother'd been a drunk and her father was obscurity." She grabbed the defenseless dancing men by their shoulders and slammed them into the ground, rendering them both unconscious.

Then Mirri promptly moved on with that same blinding speed just barely managed to avoid being skewered by a third dancing man's blade.

She seemed to vanish completely for a few moments and then emerged into being again still unharmed.

"What do you fight for? Is it the blood, the death, the screams, or the brilliance of the battle itself?" One of the five remaining dancing men called out to her.

"Why not all of the above?" Mirri answered with a smirk.

"A woman after my own heart." Her pointed eared foe replied with relish.

"If Florence hadn't insisted otherwise I'd rip it out and show it to you." Mirri promised him.

"But nothin' ever came form a life that was a simple one." James kept right on singing.

The five dancing men approached her together as one group, and blades began to flash at her from all sides, and yet even completely blind Mirri was able to dart between them with ease! Kian could only gape in amazement.

"Pull yourself together girl, and have a little fun!" Did it really matter how? All that mattered to Kian was that she was doing it, and it looked like the dancers (those that remained) were similarly astonished as she delivered a powerful elbow to one's pelvis smashing it to pieces.

"Well she took me by the hand, I could see she was a fiery one." In time with the music Mirri stopped one dancer's attack midway through by grabbing his hands and squeezing tight.

When she let go, his sword fell from limp and distorted fingers wrenched to uselessness.

"Her legs ran all the way up to heaven and past Avalon!" Mirri kicked off the ground, and turned her leap into a kick that involved her leg traveling a crescent moon shaped path straight into the head of another dancer slamming them to the ground and staining Mirri's boot red and pink.

"Tell me something girl, what it is you have in store? She said come with me now, on the devil's dance floor!" There were only two of the dancing men left now, the wearily circled Mirri blades ready to strike if they got the chance.

"The apple now is sweet. Oh much sweeter than it ought to be. Another little bite, I don't think there is much hope for me!" They both came at her, but Mirri managed backhand one of them away from her. The other, her hands tore at his neck, and ripped a bloody gash in his throat causing a small spray of blood that splattered against Mirri's face.

"The sweat beneath her brow, travels all the way an' headin' south. This bleedin' heart's cryin', cause there's no way out!" The last remaining dancing man started to rise to his feet, but Mirri jammed her foot against his back, and then began to stomp and stomp and stomp until his spine had been splintered.

"Please… just a little more?" One of the dancing men who was laying on the ground unable to fight but not yet unconscious moaned.

"Since you asked so nicely..." Mirri reflected before kicking him in the head.

"Swing a little more, on the Devil's Dance Floor!" James finished the song, before slowly taking Kian's hand in his own.

"I think it's time for us to get back to sleep now that it's safe again..." He insisted.

XXX XXX XXX

"Not these two..." Alexander told Florence as they inspected the subdued dancing men.

"You can't be serious." Florence's voice was far harsher than normal.

"Not these two." Alexander repeated as he adjusted the fallen fey's outfits slightly.

"Why not?" The dryad practically hissed.

"They're not dancing men." Alexander explained, pulling their outfits tight against their flesh.

Like the other six they were pale skinned, eerily beautiful, with long pointed ears, and equally long hair.

Only when their outfits were adjusted did it become clear that they had something the other six didn't, breasts.

"I can't let you illuminate dancing women." Alexander groaned, his voice becoming more strained, as if he would have much rather not have spoken at all.

"Ordinary 'death' as we know it will teach them nothing." Florence insisted.

"We don't know that. They take so long to pull themselves back together that no human has ever been able to properly study what happens." He insisted.

"So you want to be the first then? Such things are best left to Rudolph Van Richten. You're not the scholarly type." Florence pointed out.

"I refuse to have this argument with you Florence. Go ahead, hate me for this, I'm used to being hated, even by you." Alexander declared stoically.

Then he grabbed the skull of each fey and squeezed until their was a sickening sound.

Before he even had a chance to stand up both of the dancing women had completely and utterly ceased to be. There was not so much as a single drop of blood or fragment of bone left to mark their passing.

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Florence screamed at the top of her lungs and Alexander did exactly as she asked.

He simply turned and walked away, leaving the six dancing men for her to deal with as she saw fit.

XXX XXX XXX

Florence Bastien had prepared the dancing men to face their fate. Each one was bound hand and foot against the trunk of a tree by thick tight vines, with still more wrapped around their mouth in order to gag them.

"I have little wish to hear what you have to say, and even less to give you a chance to cast spells." Florence declared as she paced back and forth before her captives.

"You disgust me. You play at war, make light of death, think that what is serious to others need not concern you! You believe that you are above, are better than the natural order of this world." She insisted ominously.

One of the dancing man began to transform into a ferret, not that it did them any good, the vines tightened as quickly as their body could transform.

"No. You will not escape from me today. You will not escape punishment for a lifetime of brutality. This is not a game, this is not fun, there is nothing more serious in this world than life and death.

You seemed to have been unable to realize that though, so I hope you find this educational. Tell me, does battle seem any less joyous now that you know that your own lives are about to be forfeited?" She demanded.

None of the dancing men could speak up of course any words they spoke came out as mumbled gibberish.

"Those who mock the natural order, who refuse to recognize the lives of others as beautiful and unique, who treat them as nothing more than playthings, I have sworn to see them brought low as wheat before the scythe.

Darkness has infested you, darkness has corrupted you, I will drive it from you and purify whatever remains of your spirits. Every twilight inevitably gives way before the dawn." Florence Bastien declared as the sun began to rise and its rays fell upon the dancing men.

Their lithe bodies began to smoke and soon caught fire. First their hair ignited, but then it spread to their skin and clothing as well. Florence knew this would happen and had magically enchanted the trees to protect them from the flames. Those trees would not suffer, and their prisoners would not be able to escape….

They burned no less thoroughly than vampires, in fact they were so completely consumed by the sunlight that not even piles of ash were last behind.

Once the fires subsided Florence allowed the vines she had magically animated to relax and a smirk began to touch at the edges of her lips.

"It is well that the dispensing the judgment of Gaia is so horrible or I should grow far too fond of it." She reflected.

XXX XXX XXX

"Well, here we are again..." Admitted Alexander Diamondclaw.

"You have no one but yourself to blame for it." Florence Bastien couldn't help but point out.

The pair had returned to their room in the inn and now sat back to back with one another on the bed.

"You know, I really wish this would be one of our normal arguments. The kind where I could just admit that you're right and we could move on. This time though, I won't… I can't… I still feel so sure I did the right thing." Alexander insisted.

"It is no bed of roses for me either." Florence Bastien reflected.

"I don't like how you act when you're around them." Alexander warned her.

"That's what I hate about them most." Florence answered, her voice pained.

"Mirri agrees with the way you treat them." Alexander pointed out.

"Mirri agrees with a great many of your plans." Florence countered.

"Yes, typically those are the plans I count on you to talk me out of." Alexander responded, his voice alight with bitter irony.

"You'll still have James." Florence noted, her voice also touched with traces of irony.

"I count on James to speak from the heart, but I like being able to depend on you for sage wisdom." Alexander explained.

"My sage wisdom says that there is too much evil in this world. If you wish to make a difference you need to pluck it out by its roots, otherwise it will just grow back." Florence declared calmly.

"Were you ever tempted to pluck my roots?" Alexander inquired slowly.

"You're not like them." Florence insisted.

"Yes I am. I'm so very, very, like them." Alexander lamented.

Florence stood up, walked around the bed, and grabbed Alexander's face, forcing his left eye to gaze into her own.

"You are NOT like them." Florence repeated.

"The problem is I can't be sure if you're saying that for my benefit or your own." Coming from another man those words could have been a condemnation, from Alexander Diamondclaw's throat they were simply sorrowful.

"Stop, just stop Alex. You can't solve this problem by making a monster of yourself." The bald woman warned him.

"Then I don't know what you want from me... that's the only thing I'm good at." The blond haired man insisted with dreadful earnestly, a tear starting to form in his single eye.

Florence answered him with a deep kiss.

"You always try, no matter what. That is why I love you." She insisted.

After a moment's hesitation Alexander kissed her back.

"We haven't actually solved anything though..." He muttered when the kiss finally ended.

Florence reached over, grabbed the bed's pillow and walloped Alexander over the head with it.

"You're a beast." She teased him.

"None beastlier." Alexander agreed with a smile.

End Chapter Three

AN: Alex is first attacked by Hellhounds in this chapter. His outfit is still protected against fire thanks to Florence, just like it was during the last book, that's the wonder of the permanency spell.

Once they're dealt with, the song that James plays while Mirri fights is "Devil's Dance Floor" by Flogging Molly, which is an appropriately Irish band. I removed a lot of the repeats of the chorus to get most of the lines in.

Mirri's glowing fists are her turning on the "Dancers Strike" ability that she has from her levels in Battle Dancer. Most of the time she just uses the fact that she's a vampire and her extremities (natural attacks) thus count as "magical" to defeat a foe's damage reduction, but if she isn't sure if that alone will do the job (she's never fought dancing men before) she'll turn on Dancer's strike.

Also Kian's inability to follow Mirri is less her being super speedy and more her using the Quickchange feat to take on her gaseous form as a move equivalent action,

Anyway, as we've been slowly building up to, yes Florence does get exponentially more bloodthirsty and violent when Shadow Fey are involved.

On the other hand, these dancing men invaded this particular village "just cause" so one can making a very convincing argument that they deserve everything that happens to them. Florence isn't herself when she's around Shadow Fey… but it's not like she's wrong, to a great degree the Dancing Men do treat war more like a game than humans do, and they don't respect the lives of human beings as existing for any reason other than to provide them with entertainment


	4. Chapter 4

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust of faerie dust….

Chapter Four: I could be mean, I could be ruthless, don't you know I could be just like you?

Now that the dancing men had been dealt with the group turned their attention to grabbing a few more precious hours of sleep. Though catnaps were far from a perfect solution, time was of the essence and before noon they struck out.

The adventurers headed into the Wytchwood, determined to locate some trace of either Arla McCollin or the White Lady she had gone looking for.

At first they tramped along in relative peace and quiet with only the various sounds of a thriving forest for company. Still, with every passing moment the forest seemed to tightening its embrace upon them.

The boughs of towering trees blocked out most of the sunlight, and gnarled roots jutting out of the soil made footing treacherous. The air grew thick with the smell of pine and loam as it became still and heavy. Even the scratching of the crickets and buzzing of flies now seemed to be muted by the sweet miasma of the forest.

Then without warning the stillness of the moment was shattered by a hail of half a dozen stinging darts fired at them by some hidden ambushers. One of them punched cleanly through Cal's brown overcoat and into his right shoulder.

He reached up with his other hand pulled it out, gazing down in revolution at the blood and other liquids which coated the tiny missile.

"Oh this is not good." He muttered before dropping it and crouching low to the ground to make himself a smaller target for any further attacks.

"Deadly poison? Florence!" Alexander barked, counting on his dryad companion to neutralize such venoms before it was too late for the Lamordian.

Alexander had been leading the group and thus born the brunt of the attack, being struck by no less than four of the tiny darts. Florence Bastien had been hit by the other, but neither she nor Alexander seemed noticeably affected at the moment.

"No, don't need her help yet Boss. This stuff is only a paralytic, slowish acting… got an antidote somewhere..." The dirty blond haired man warned as he searched the collection of bottles and containers he wore strapped to his belt.

With each passing second the movements of his his right hand became more stilted and awkward forcing him to use his left instead. When he finally located the right mixture he unscrewed the top and drained half of its contents down his throat in one long gulp. With a sigh of relief he quickly tossed the container over to Devi Skye who drank down whatever remained.

While he did so James Firecat made sure to push Kian McCollin firmly to the ground and position his own body between the young man and the direction the darts had come from.

"Gaia, who dares hide among your daughters…?" Called out Florence as she waved her hands adding a few more words in a more mystical trees.

Before the spell could be completed however the next wave of attacks arrived.

A full half score of foes dropped on the party out of the overhanging tree branches.

They were strange twisted creatures, almost human looking; except their bodies were scrunched, their eyes too big for the heads, and had wicked needle like teeth which gleamed in preparation for battle.

Each and every single one of them clenched a shinning dagger in one hand.

Thankfully, one died almost instantly, blasted into a smoking corpse by a bolt of lightning from the ring Devi Skye wore on the middle finger of her right hand.

The remaining nine happily began to engage the group in a wild close quarters melee. Cal's personal firearm Phoenix rang out striking down another of the strange assassins, but having done that he was then forced to wield it as nothing more than a club.

Clearly eager for a chance to spread pain to the most helpless a trio of the monster men closed in on James and Kian. The werecat rolled over (so that his back rather than his chest held the young boy down) and drew a pair of daggers. He fought against them with an awkward series of slashes, stabs, blocks, and twists absorbing blows rather than letting them strike Kian.

Devi's flail rapidly lashed out striking here and there breaking bones each time it landed, while its owner was pressed back to back with Florence. The dryad in turn had been forced to abandon her spell work in favor using her staff in a more martial manner.

Mirri Catwarrior was having the time of her unlife.

Though the blades of these attackers glimmered ominously with a coating of some fowl liquid she had yet to meet the poison that could harm those already dead. She swept through the attackers like a whirlwind, reaping a terrible vengeance against them.

Her arms seized her smaller foes by the throat and throttled them, or tossed their bodies against the trees with enough force to smash their skulls.

The battle was as brief as it was fierce, the strange creatures' poisoned weapons were unable to work properly against any of the adventures and soon their own reckless and bloodthirsty nature became their undoing.

As the last of their bodies fell another volley of the poisoned darts short out from a slightly different portion of the forest; James, Mirri, and Devi were all struck by one of the projectiles. Fortified by Cal's potion Devi resisted the venom, James' lycanthropic constitution managed to shake off its effects and Mirri was immune as ever.

Florence Bastien was hit by another three but didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest. At least she wasn't bothered by the physical darts.

"You find pleasure in this?" She called out in Sylvan.

"No fun now, evil sunkisser! Broke all our toys! Need to get more of them!" A voice replied back in the same language (though in a higher pitch and more rushed tone, like the buzzing of an insect's wings) from within the forest.

"Evil? You hide among my sisters' branches and use their shade to hide your crimes. I will grant you illumination and show you true meaning of evil!" She promised and began casting again.

No second wave of the dagger wielding creatures appeared to to interrupt her this time and she was able to properly channel the mystical powers.

Instantly tree branches began to bend, snap, and break! That was only a test though, soon even the thick tree trunks began to do the same!

One by one like an invisible scythe reaping through the once tall and powerful trees they turned upon themselves and broke apart into splinters.

As the trees toppled the curtain of shade they had created vanished and bright sunlight streamed down.

Almost instantly there was a hissing sound like sizzling bacon, and an acrid burning smell began to fill the air.

"Sunkisser won't fight fair! Fights with magic!" A voice cried out enraged Sylvan.

With their arboreal shelter ripped away from them it was no possible to see the creatures who had been shooting darts at the group.

They were each no larger than a man's fist, and like their larger cousins they seemed to have eyes too large for their heads along with mouths full of sharp teeth. They wore simple belts from which more of the poisoned darts dangled. Each also had on a small crimson tunic which had holes cut in them to let out a pair of wasp like wings along with an equally scarlet hood.

Said wings were beating furiously now as they sought to fly away from Florence and the patch of the forest that she had cleared.

"Shadowfuckers don't fight fair, send others to die for them!" Florence taunted back as she dropped her staff and raised her hands.

Still more magical words sprang from her lips and her fingers began to transform.

They grew out and became as green as any of the leaves that surrounded them. They split apart and became a mass of thickly tangled seaweed that snagged the flying creatures, crushing their wings and dragging them back down the ground.

"Now Shadowfuckers learn what it means to die! Now they burn!" Florence cackled as indeed that was exactly what was happening to the creatures.

The wisps of smoke that had been coming from them intensified and with a series of soft popping sounds like festival fireworks each one of them burst into flames.

No coherent words escaped them as the flames feasted upon their bodies, burning them from top to bottom until there was not a single trace of their existence left.

Her spell's purpose the strange kelp like strands retracted and returned to being nothing more than Florence Bastien's fingers.

"What was that?" Kian asked as he struggled his way free from under James now that the danger had passed.

While red haired lycanthrope had managed to protect his body from harm, his eyes had still ended up being exposed to sight of Florence using her magic.

"The White Lady isn't the only friendly forest spirit. You can think of me as the Green Lady." Florence responded with a benign smile.

"So what were these things anyway? Always like to know what I kill..." Mirri pondered as she picked up one of their fallen ambushers.

Unlike their smaller cousins they had left distinct corpses behind that could be easily interacted with.

"I've got a theory." Alexander admitted.

He picked up one of the dead monsters and tossed it into the section of the forest that Florence had cleared of trees. It didn't burst into flames or vanish, but it did reveal something interesting, the creature had no shadow.

"Changelings." Alexander growled.

"They don't look anything like those bastards back in Paridon." Cal immediately cut in.

"Not doppelgangers, changelings. It is what the evil fey do to those they steal the shadow of.

They carry it off and preform eldritch rituals upon it, and the shadow itself transforms into a changeling bound do the will of the one who created it. Hopefully we didn't just destroy the shadows of anyone from Briggdarrow." Alexander ruminated.

"You mean that might have been part of me mah or pah?" Kian asked with a shudder, clinging tightly to James for support.

"Evil Fey make changeling out of those who skills match the dark purpose they desire. Redcaps look for those who excel in the arts of skulking, poison, and murder. I think it's safe enough to assume that if your parents lived mundane lives they were probably put to mundane use..." Alexander strove to comfort the young boy.

"It wasn't just adults though… there were other kids like me and Arla… Why, why did they do this us?" Kian practically sobbed at the unfairness of it all.

"There is no depths to evil of those who refuse to recognize the lives of others. Excuse me..." Florence pointed out before suddenly stepping away from the group.

She walked out into the section of the forest that she had cleared and fell into a kneeling crouch before one of the broken trees.

Words flowed from her mouth in the sylvan tongue that none of her companions (not even Alexander) spoke.

"I am sorry sister. I am for this terrible slaughter I have wrought among you.

I am sorry for the sap I have spilled. You did not die in vain, in your sacrifice you have slain a great evil though I still wish I could have thought of some other way.

I am sorry that all I can do is promise that my magic will nurture your saplings, so that they will grow strong, so that your legacy will not end here.

I am sorry that for how hollow these words sound even as I speak them.

I am sorry that I am no longer the tender gardener I was born to be.

This world needs gardeners... but even more it needs a righteous conflagration to scorches away the evil that so pervades this land and seeks to choke the life from others before they even have a chance to bloom.

The man I love convinced me that I had the power to be that blaze…" She repented as her fingers dug a small hole in ground where the tall trees had blocked out the sunlight to the point that not even green had grown.

"Please do not hate the forest fire because it burns so fiercely, if you can, rejoice in the new opportunities that arise from its devastation.

Most of all, I am sorry that I have let myself be corrupted." She pleaded.

In response to her words and magic a small tree shoot suddenly poked its head above the soil.

Florence took heart from the sight, though she hoped it would not be the only one to answer her prayers.

End Chapter.

AN: First of all I'm sorry for no update last week, was on vacation.

Also sorry for short update this week, what can I say, it's time for another rising action.

The spell that Florence is using here to break up the trees is a third level warp wood, the one she's using to keep the redcaps from escaping is second level Kelpstrand. The one she uses afterwords is probably third level Plant Growth.


	5. Chapter 5

Monster Party Book 6: Only mortal trust of faerie dust….

Chapter Five: Near a tree by a river there's a hole in the ground...

Once Florence had completed her rituals of absolution and regrowth the group continued on their way. They kept their eyes peeled for any trace of Kian's sister or the White Lady she'd gone out seeking. After another two hours or so of trekking Alexander caught sight of their first real clue.

It was a slender coil of gray smoke rising up above even above the tallest of trees. There was no scent of any nearby wild blaze which suggested whoever had created that fire had done so on purpose and had it under control. Its sheer slimness suggested that it might even have come from a chimney of some sort!

After relaying this information to the group they picked up their pace, grateful to finally have a concrete destination (of a sort) in mind. As the group's spirits rose even the forest itself seemed to change for the better.

Somehow the Wytchwood began to feel somewhat less threatening and oppressive, the pervading sensation of being observed by some foe who was always just out of sight faded more and more with each step they took..

Then with a soft "ooph" Alexander was suddenly brought to a halt as he struck a great deal of nothing. The section of the forest he'd been walking through didn't look too greatly different than any other, and yet it felt as if there was suddenly a gigantic stone wall in front of him that he couldn't see.

"This is new..." Alexander admitted, taking a deep breath and standing very still, looking ahead intently.

As he did so and left his eye adjust to scene before him no longer constantly changing as he walked forward, slowly he was able to pick out details that he'd original missed.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing, but he was sure he was seeing something. Whatever this strange barrier was, it shimmered faintly, like bits of moonlight reflected in unseen glass.

"Florence is this magic?" He asked as she took up position standing beside him.

She rested her wooden staff against the invisible barrier, said a few words faintly and then nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Powerfully magic. If that smoke comes from the home of the White Lady she must not be fond of uninvited visitors."

"Well if we can't go through it we'll just have to try climbing over it..." Mirri suggested.

She pressed her hands carefully against the barrier, searching for even the slightest depression, dip, crack, or other imperfection that she could exploit. She sought them in vain however because the barrier was completely and utterly smooth to the touch without the slightest imperfection.

In irritation the dark haired woman hopped up and down a few times pressing her hands against different sections of the barrier still unable to get a grip.

"Oh this is just… cheating! I could climb up a stained glass window, but this thing, nothing..." She admitted in irritation.

"Mirri circle around and try to find out how wide this barrier is." Alexander suggested.

As he did so he subtly rested his hands against each other, thumbs touching, palms out, and repeatedly flexed his fingers up and down about ten times. To young Kian it probably looked as if he was simply working a few kinks out of the digits in question but he knew Mirri would understand exactly what he wanted her to do.

"I'll get right on that Sir." She promised before retreating back into the forest.

"Florence any possibility of us going under it?" The blond haired man considered next, trying to formulate another possible way to get through the barrier.

Florence rested her staff against a nearby tree and walked to the very edge of the barrier.

There she concentrated and her body began to transform.

Her skin grew became brown and mottled like tree bark, her hands grew thicker, as did her feet which root like plunged into the ground. Kian could only watch in amazement as Florence Bastien transformed into a tree.

The entire process only lasted for about a minute and then she returned back to normal. Well 'normalish' her skin now had a strange greenish tint to it.

"The barrier extends several feet down. If you really wanted me to I could keep pressing, but whoever designed it is proving quite thorough so far." She admitted.

"Cal, Florence will need some of your ointment again when you get a chance. That issue aside... okay going under it is out of the question also.

So what is left besides waiting for Mirri?" Alexander muttered.

Just to make sure the most obvious approach had been attempted her drew Wolf Claw and dealt the invisible barrier a few firm blows, but sure enough even the mighty blade bounced off harmlessly.

Eventually Mirri did return, shaking her head sadly.

"There's no going 'around' this thing, it goes on for quite a ways 'left' from what I could find." She admitted in a sulk.

"Okay, I am officially out of smart ideas for this one.

Lets start from the very beginning and work from there. This time we're all going to search this area and see if we can find anything that stands out: disrupted sections of the forest, foot prints, animal scat, anything." He insisted.

The other five nodded and got to work.

XXX XXX XXX

"Kian can I see your boots?" James Firecat suddenly asked apropos of nothing in particular to the boy.

"Why?" He couldn't help but respond tilting his head to the side slightly in confusion.

In response the red clad man got down on his hands and knees and began to carefully brush aside some broken twigs revealing a series of markings in the dirt. It looked like several creatures had passed this way recently, the larger sets of tracks were all barefoot, but a smaller one was wearing boots.

"You think Arla came this way?" Kian gasped.

At a nod Kian eagerly pulled off his left boot and awkwardly balancing himself on one foot handed it over.

James compared the markings on the underside of Kian's boot to those he'd found on the ground. Assuming that Kian's parents had picked out a similar style of footwear for both their children, the prints matched pretty closely.

Handing the boot back he slowly stood up and began to follow them a little further.

"Okay, those barefoot tracks, they're a little too small for full grown humans, and…. and….." He suddenly paused and knelt down in the ground again sorting carefully through the dirt.

James pulled out a yellow snaggletooth holding it up proudly.

"Recognize this Alex?" He asked a touch hesitantly.

"Goblins." Alexander declared after only a few moments of consideration.

"She was being followed, chased by goblins. One of them must have run into the invisible barrier moving far too fast for its own good." He surmised.

"But her tracks keep going beyond the barrier. She got through…." James reflected, and though the news brought some relief to Kian's heart (that his sister hadn't been captured by the vicious monsters) it still didn't explain how Arla had pulled off what none of them had been capable of.

"Those prints… I know how she did it." Devi Skye declared as she inspected the markings in the dust.

Half a dozen confused expressions turned in her direction.

Devi walked up to the edge of the barrier, and pressed a hand against it to show it was still as strong as ever. Then she turned around, and walking backwards passed right through it.

"Look at how the direction of the heel changes. She was being chased, she found herself 'cornered' against the invisible barrier. So she turns around to at least try and make a brave stand with her back to the wall, except once she has her back to it, the wall wasn't there anymore." The brown haired woman explained.

James Firecat eagerly twisted himself around then walked backwards and passed through the barrier as easily as Devi had.

Seeing the process work more than once the others did it as well, and silly as it seemed they met no resistance.

"A mystical barrier that's only there when you're looking at it, even if you can barely see it when you do… fairytale fey magic for sure." Alexander reflected.

Not even Florence could disagree with him on that point.

XXX XXX XXX

The group pressed onward beyond the strange barrier and soon enough came upon their second obstacle.

Spread across their path was a wall of boiling vapor. As white as newly fallen snow, it rippled and churned with every breath of wind but seemed unwilling to drift away or dissipate.

Dark shapes appeared to move slyly within the miasma, but they might be nothing more than shadows and currents in the landlocked cloud. Alexander took a deep breath and approached the cloud slowly and cautiously.

He stuck his right hand into it up to the wrist, held it there for a few seconds and then slowly pulled it back.

"Well the gasses aren't caustic, that's one fewer thing to worry about. Don't think they're poisonous either. Mirri didn't you once say that there was no one in your village who could defeat you in a breatholding competition? Time to put your money where your mouth is and find out for us what's on the other side of this cloud." Alexander insisted.

The black haired woman spared a quick glance in Kian's direction shrugged and sighed.

"If you really insist Sir." Making a great show of taking a deep breath she vanished into the fog.

After about thirty seconds or so her voice called out to them.

"There's a lot more boring woods on the other side of this fog bank, that's what there." Her voice announced.

"Think the fog bank might have some sort of weird spell on it that copies of voices of those who go into it to lure in still more prey?" Cal worried, still clearly less than enthusiastic about pressing forward.

"Really? REALLY?" Mirri's voice cried out.

There were more sounds of shoes stomping on the ground and soon she emerged out of the cloud completely unchanged by her experience crossing through it.

"Now do you believe me when I say I didn't have any trouble alchemist?" She snorted derisively.

Before Cal even had time to answer she stormed off back through the cloud of strange mist for her third journey.

"I'll try next." Alexander insisted before stepping into the mist.

He was gone for about ten seconds, then emerged more less exactly where he first gone into the fog bank.

"Well, that could have gone better. I got a couple of steps, but then it was like my mind went blank, couldn't even tell left from right." He openly admitted.

Devi began to reach into her bag of holding and pulled out a coil of rope with a sly smile on her face.

"We'll tie a loop around your waist. Then we let it out a little at a time, if you feel it going slack then it means you've started retracing your steps." She suggested.

Alexander approved of this plan and soon one end of the rope was tied around his waist in a knot while the other was held in Devi's hands.

He headed into the fog bank for a second time and they began to slowly let out the rope. About twenty seconds later he emerged a few dozen feet to the left of where he had entered.

"That didn't work." He admitted redundantly.

"What happened to the rope?" Devi asked even as she tugged at her end.

Alexander gave a few quick pulls on his own and soon enough they both reached the exact same conclusion... Something had cut the rope in the most neat and perfect a slice any of them had ever seen.

"You know, some days it feels like magic is just screwing with you on purpose." Cal reflected at the implausibility of such of a perfectly designed bit of conjuration.

"Kali's Kneecaps do I have to do everything myself?" Mirri's voice sighed.

A short while later she emerged from the fog bank yet again and took Alexander by the wrist.

"Just don't let go, think you can manage that Sir?" She suggested.

At his nod she lead him forward. When she returned a while later she did not have Alexander with her, and instead guided Florence into the strange mist.

One by one (except for Kian and James, she did those two together with the former riding on the latter's shoulders) the black haired woman shepherded all of her companions through the mystical fog bank.

No matter how the strange substance tried to choke their lungs and confuse their senses, Mirri Cattwarrior's grip remained firm and so did her own sense of direction.

"Hope I don't have to do all the work for the next problem we run across also..." The dark haired woman grumbled to herself.

"You say that now, but give you a 'problem' that bleeds..." Alexander replied playfully before continuing on his way.

XXX XXX XXX

The group pressed ever onwards toward the smoke plume. The air became sweet with the scent of a blazing hearth and baking bread as if to reward them for their dedication.

Then came the sound of running water and they discovered a wide but shallow stream. The bubbling water flowed quickly and was almost musical in its movements. Even at its center the crystal clear brook couldn't have been more than a foot deep, though from shore to shore was a gap twenty five feet across.

Curiously it was possible for a keen eye to just barley catch sight of something metallic embedded in the thick soil beneath the sparkling water about eight or nine feet from the shore. It looked like a sword, but was impossible to tell for certain.

"What is this supposed to be? A surefire defense against people who can't stand to get their shoes wet?" Cal mocked the shallow brook.

Alexander abruptly grabbed the Lamordian by his shoulder and dragged him several paces away from the stream. That done, he bent down, scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it into the water.

The water rippled slightly but otherwise did nothing at all unordinary.

"Florence, is the water magical?" Alexander asked still not ready to trust it.

It was but the work of a quick cantrip to for the druid to discover the answer.

"Yes." She confirmed at once.

"You heard her Cal, and this isn't just magic, this is fairytale fey magic.

You can either take it seriously, or you can spend the rest of your life, which could either be excruciatingly short, or agonizingly long, transformed right and proper. Here is the plan, we're going to dig up this perfectly ordinary dirt, and toss it into that brook until we've create a bridge we can walk across, or better yet a damn that stops the flow of water completley. I don't care how long it takes, we're not going to..." Alexander began.

He never quite got a chance to finish because as he was speaking Florence Bastien finished casting a spell.

Her body suddenly became an insubstantial outline that zoomed across the brook, flying easily above the water and needing only a scant few seconds to complete the trip.

"Or we could do that." Alexander admitted.

A few moments later Cal and Devi caught onto what had she'd done and transformed to gaseous versions of themselves and flew across the river as well.

"What are you doing?" Kian asked timitldy, not sure what to make of the transformations even after Florence transformed back into a being of flesh and blood.

"We're out thinking the magic water. That's how the brave knight always defeats the evil fey in stories isn't it? They out think them." Alexander insisted.

"Am I I supposed to do it also? I'm not sure I want to..." Kian admitted, worried he wouldn't be able to figure how to undo the magic, assuming he could trigger it in the first place.

His worries weren't helped when James Firecat promptly transform and flew across the river.

"No I've got something else in mind for you. It be easier than magically transforming, though it might be best if you close your eyes." Alexander warned him as he walked to the edge of the brook holding Kian's hand.

"What are you going to do?" Kian couldn't help but ask.

"Just close your eyes and count to fifty. Remember, we've driven off the dancing men, their beasts, and the redcaps also. I'm trying to help you." Alexander insisted, getting down on his knees so that his left eye could look directly into the young boy's.

Kian took in a deep breath and then closed his eyes, even going so far as to cover them with his hands.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty..."

At the count of "twenty" Kian felt himself being pulled from the ground.

He wasn't sure what by, it didn't feel like Alexander's (or anyone else's) gloved hands. It was too large, and there was a sense of countless miniscule hairs brushing up his body.

"Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty..." The young Tepestani continued to count.

The next thing he knew he was sailing through the air at a tremendous speed.

"Thirty one..." He struggled to do any more counting after that, the force of the wind sailing past him was quite distracting and mangled whatever words he did manage to get out.

All Kian could think about that when he stopped moving, he wasn't going to like it. Unless he landed in the brook itself, but he doubted its shallow waters would do him any good….

Then before he knew it, he didn't stop, but he did slow down. He felt countless twisting things entwining themselves around every part of his body all at once. They tugged and pulled at him, but in doing so helped distribute the shock of him slowing down all across his body.

The strange embrace bled off his momentum, and drew him slowly, safely to the ground.

"You can open your eyes again." Florence Bastien promised him.

Kian hesitantly did and to his relief and amazement found that indeed he was now on the other end of the brook, and so was Mirri Catwarrior!

"I made it!" He cheered happily to Alexander who was still on the far side.

"Told you I was trying to help! Now, just give me a moment..." The blond haired man promised.

His body became an insubstantial reflection of itself and he zoomed over the water so quickly the brook didn't even have time to ripple at his passing before he was over solid land again.

He then reformed himself and took a moment to pat down his outfit smiling to himself proudly.

"The invisible wall, that strange cloud, and now this brook. That makes three. I don't know anywhere near as much about magic as you do Florence but I know fairytales. Three is a powerful number in fairytales." He insisted.

Then as if realizing exactly what he was saying took on a much more stern tone.

"Not that we're going to just blindly rush ahead and hope that there isn't a fourth sort of magical barrier awaiting us." He warned the others.

"Meanies! What are you doing with my brother? You better let him go or the White Lady will make you sorry!" A young female voice suddenly shouted at them.

In the shade of a nearby tree stood a young girl with orangish red hair and green eyes pointing an accusing finger at the group.

"Arla!" Cried out Kian who at once recognized his sister.

End Chapter.

AN: I am a horrible, horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE person. Not only am I using a line from a song I've used before, but I'm using the EXACT SAME LINE! Okay you know what, since the adventure books that books five sand six are based on are linked together, I'll give myself a pass for this link over here.

Sorry it's just that that line from "The Riddle" by Nik Kershaw fits too perfectly in this situation since the three challenges our groups face are set up to be more about lateral thinking and riddles than normal magical barriers than you can just solve by raw power, the last one of which being a river/stream (and really REALLY nasty stuff happens to you if you do anything that leads to getting your feet wet) meant that it was just too perfect a chance to miss up.

So it's not me running out of ideas for song lyrics, I'm just homaging myself/creating links between this story and its predecessor… you guys believe that right?

The first barrier is directly said to be immune to spiderclimb thus why Mirri can't climb it.

The second however is directly tied to people breathing, so she passes through it effortlessly. Though it does have exactly the effect shown in this story if anyone tries to get "smart" and use a rope line to get through it.

As for the brook…. If you get at all wet in its waters you transform into a water elemental enslaved for the purpose of transforming anyone else who tries to cross the brook. Yeah. There are also a bunch of water elementals waiting to manifest and attack if you try and do anything that seriously disturbs the water like using stilts or a bridge that touches the water. Double yeah. Fairytale Fey magic, it doesn't matter how innocent it might look, take it seriously!

Florence is using her Wind Walk (last seen back in Book 3) which is a great Druid Spell for traveling quickly if you want a little more flexibility in where you go than transport via plants. Also pay attention and draw your own conclusions about how Mirri got across the stream, but it was probably for the best that Kian didn't see it.


	6. Chapter 6

Monster Party Book Six: When Darkness falls, pain is all.

Chapter Six: I don't blame you, for being you, but you can't blame me, for hating it!

"We've just been keeping him safe. Come a little closer and you can see for yourself..." Alexander promised her while keeping a hand on Kian's shoulder to keep him from running over to his sister..

Kian tried to speak up, but Alexander shoved a his other black gloved hand firmly over the boy's lips and refused to allow him to get a word in edgewise.

The young girl looked askance for a moment and then Arla slowly took a few tentative steps forward out from under the tree, her shadow trailing after her.

The twin facts that she was able to walk out in the daylight and still had a shadow caused Alexander to relax immensely and removed both of his hands from Kian.

The young boy raced to his sister and the pair embraced in a tight hug while the rest of the group ambled over at a more sedate pace.

"Sis, how did you manage to get here?" Kian couldn't help but ask, wondering how she could have gotten through the magical fog or crossed the wide brook without risking whatever magical powers it had.

"Well, while I was looking for the White Lady in the woods I come to the attention o' the goblins. Hideous creatures they was, all twisted an' ugly. I run from 'em, but they had snares set. I got caught in one and hurt my leg real bad I did. Wanna see?

Anyway, a dozen o' the beasties closed in 'round me. I guessed they were gonna eat me or sumptin. One of 'em raised up a bent ol' knife. I remember screamin' an' backin' away. When it stabbed down wit' the knife, sumptin stopped it!

I didn't know why they wasn't followin', but I din't hang aroun' ta ask either. I took off runnin'. All of a sudden there was a big wall o' smoke aroun' me.

I 'member seein' a bea-u-ti-ful lady, all in white. Next thing I know I woke up in her cottage and my leg was all better! She saved me, she did! Then she said I was free to go anywhere I liked so long as I didn't cross the brook or make too much of a nuisance of myself. So I don' care what you grown-ups say, she ain't no evil old witch!" Arla explained.

"Can you take us to see the White Lady?" Alexander asked her at once.

Arla slowly let go of her brother and then began to size up the tall man slowly.

"Not if you want to hurt her..." She huffed in irritation, clearly still not ready to trust these strange people she'd never seen before.

"Lay off it sis! They helped save me more than once, and the bald mistress is another spirit of the forest!" Kian insisted.

"Really?" Arla gasped.

Now it was Florence's turn to be very slowly and carefully examined by the orange haired girl. The dryad responded by calmly walking over to the tree in whose shade the young girl had originally been standing in.

She whispered a few soothing words to it, and then slowly the tree began to sway, as if it alone was in the grip of a powerful storm, no one else could feel. That, or as if it was bowing to the woman who had just introduced herself to it.

She turned back to face Arla and offered her a quick curtsey of sorts.

"My name is Florence Bastien, but if it helps you can think of me as the Green Lady." She offered.

Very slowly Arla's face broke into a smile.

"All right, I'll take you to see the White Lady! Just don't be surprised if she needs some time to wake up first…. She likes to sleep during the day." She warned the group.

Following Arla the group pushed their way through a dense layer of foliage and finally beheld the source of the smoke, the chimney of a quaint little cottage. The building was surrounded by a wide garden of herbs, flowers, vegetables and other plants.

Strangely, none of the flowers seemed to be in bloom at the moment. The air instead was thick with the bitter aroma of various herbs. Apart from the great diversity of flora, there seemed to be nothing unusual or threatening about the garden, although the essence of various plants was capable of making one's head spin a bit.

"Those things aren't poisonous, but they will cause disorientation and then unconsciousness if you breath too deeply." Florence warned the others as soon as she caught sight of them.

Arla quickly lead them past the garden to the cottage itself. It was a simple pleasant-looking half-timbered structure with pristine white stucco walls and a thatch roof and the large chimney at one end poured a meandering plume of gray smoke into the air.

The door swung open to Arla's touch, and inside this simple ordinary looking house was a mansion.

Callan Wright blinked several times, examining an upward leading spiral staircase that was easily visible through the now open door and took a step back. Next he held up his hands and took a rough estimate of the size of the cottage itself, before returning his attention to the staircase.

The staircase which by the always greased gears of the great clockwork should slam straight into the ceiling.

It was one thing to be able to dig skillfully enough into the earth to create a hidden basement. This house had been built skillfully enough into the sky to create a hidden second floor. A second floor that which was only visible when you were inside the house.

"Owe, my brain." The alchemist eventually admitted at the blatant impossibility of what he was seeing.

"I don't know what you're so worked up over, it is just one of those standard magical mansions that fits inside a cottage. They show up in stories all the time!" James Firecat was completely unperturbed by the architectural impossibility that lay before him.

"Yeah but, still…!" Cal exclaimed. unable to find the words with which to properly object.

"It is the same principle my bag of holding you realize?" Devi pointed out, trying to give him a familiar frame of reference.

"Yeah, but there's a good reason sentient beings don't try to go inside bags of holding. The lucky ones don't come out again. The last unlucky one who did still has a room in Dr. Gregorian Illhousen's Clinic for the Mentally Distressed, screaming his head off about how they have beheld the horrific truth of reality and we all but the insubstantial dreams of some ancient unknowable creature more powerful than the gods themselves that weaves all our fates with the rapid movements of its fingers. Just because this place is bigger than a bag doesn't mean it is safe to go inside." Cal worried.

"Arla has clearly been spending time in there without going insane." Alexander pointed out as he headed inside.

"Would you feel better if you had a blindfold?" Devi offered smirking.

"You know what… sure." Cal admitted after a moment's hesitation.

After removing a black blindfold from her bag of holding Devi tied it tightly around Cal's eyes. Then she took his right hand and began to lead him further into the magical mansion.

Once you managed to get past the spacial anomaly the place represented, there was nothing else overtly magical to be seen inside, the doors didn't mystically open at their approach nor did candles ignite at their very presence.

"Stay back… I'm the one who is supposed to talk with the White Lady's servants if something important happens during the day!" Arla insisted, puffing up her chest mightily.

Alexander saw no particular reason to pick a fight over this issue and so seated himself in one of the mansion's many (many) opulent pieces of upholstery beckoning for the rest of the group to do likewise.

Eventually a gracefully woman breezed into the room. Her every movement was precise and delicate, but there was something disconcerting about her. She didn't so much walk as dance, and while she did so with great skill, there was no passion in her amber colored eyes. Which left aside the entire issue of how the black black haired woman was missing her shadow.

"Queen Maeve will see you now." She informed them in measured tones before leaving as gracefully as she has entered.

With no other real alternatives, the group did as they had been beckoned to and followed the servant. On the other side of the doors they found a formal looking dining room whose long wooden table was laden with fruits and sweetbreads.

At the end of the table stood a woman more beautiful than most could ever imagine.

Even James Firecat (who always tried to always tell the truth other than on the subject of his lycanthropy) would have had to say this woman was prettier than Mirri Catwarrior, though of course he would have promptly added that he liked Mirri for reasons beyond her looks...

The woman stood a full six feet tall and had long white hair, but still looked youthful. There was no flaw to be found in her features, no matter how closely they were examined; even her pale skin and pointed ears only added to an exotic allure.

She wore a silky blue gown which shimmered with her every movement, sparkling like the surface of a mountain lake on a sunny day. Her perfume was sweeter than any bouquet of flowers.

"I am Maeve." She said in a textured voice that might have been issued by some delicate woodwind.

"I bid you welcome to my home, simple as it is. Please join me." She instructed them, motioning to a decanter of some pale wine.

"I am sorry if my barriers were an inconvenience to you, but they are necessary for my safety." She explained.

Alexander motioned for the others to stay back, but seated himself. Then he very casually tugged at his eye-patch, and twisted it around so that it covered his left eye instead of his right.

Alexander Diamondclaw's right eye was a strange deep yellow color, which seemed to reflect rather than absorb the light that struck it. As this unnatural orb gazed out over the table, he picked up one of the sweetbreads, and crushed it into miniscule crumbs.

"Tell me, my lady, do you always serve your guests food that has been enchanted to look more appetizing than it really is?" He inquired in an ominously calm voice.

"Mortals experience life so differently than we do. They can be granted such great joy from something so simple as ingesting a certain kind of nourishment. I've had my servants be very careful with their spell-work to insure the food tastes as good as it looks, that's entire point after all. To bring pleasure. Isn't pleasure better than the alternative?" She asked, her held tilted to the side slightly as if she wasn't quite sure of the answer.

"The 'woman' who brought us in. Are you responsible for making her the way she is? How much 'pleasure' does she experience?" Alexander pressed.

Maeve simply shrugged her shoulders prettily.

"Yes, I bestowed the transcendence upon Jocelyn two, three, oh my it must have been four centuries ago.

The poor dear could dance so beautifully, except she didn't want to anymore. Inside one year both of her parents died of illness, her husband was murdered by goblins, and the shock of it all cost her the child which might have been.

She was so sad that she couldn't bring herself to share the wonders of her dancing anymore, and I couldn't bear to let the world be denied such beauty. So I made her an offer and she accepted. Is the glory of transcendence not preferable to a lifetime of sorrow and suffering? Especially when her dancing can bring so much joy to others?" Maeve explained.

"By 'others' you mean yourself." Florence Bastien interjected, gripping her staff so tightly her knuckles were becoming nearly as white as Maeve's skin.

"For myself, and for my guests, even uninvited ones." Maeve answered, her voice betraying no emotion.

"Monster." Spat Florence flatly.

"Hmpph! Cold hearted as a proper waff. I thought that Arla was simply being childish when she told me what horrible people you were. It seems that she was far more perceptive than I gave her credit for. You barge through my wards, force me to try and create a small feast on the spur of the moment, and still see fit to insult me. If you continue to do so I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave." Maeve replied, somehow managing to sound extremely refined all the while.

"You didn't… 'bestow the transcendence' upon Arla McCollin, why?" Alexander tried to steer the conversation onto a slightly safer topic.

Maeve huffed, and still looked offended, though now more on general principle than personal insult.

"As my alven kin would say, what's the point of plucking a flower before it blooms? Transcendence can perfectly capture a mortal's skills, but they must first be given first to acquire them. Maybe she'll be a beautiful dancer, maybe she'll have a lovely singing voice, maybe she'll have some other great talent. Whatever becomes of her, it will be at least a decade until I can be sure." She reflected.

Maeve tossed out the word "decade" without any great weight behind it, much like a human might refer to "next week" when talking of the future.

"So if you don't have any great use for her, why did you take her in and heal her wound?" The blond haired man couldn't help but ask.

"Well, my servants found the poor thing trapped between my first and second barrier. It has been a very long time since I've talked with a mortal child so I decided to do so again. You mortals and your fickle flighty emotions are so interesting, and in children they're even more pronounced." Maeve explained.

"I wonder how many spells it would take to break open the ceiling, and how many others I'd have to go through before I got to the roof..." Florence muttered under her breath.

Luckily she did it softly enough that Maeve didn't hear. Alexander did however and he suddenly stood up.

"Excuse me a moment Lady Maeve, I had a few things I need to discuss. Everyone follow me." Alexander insisted not wanting to leave any of his companions alone in Maeve's presence.

He waited until they were through the door again and it was safely shut behind him before he started speaking.

"Alpha Female, I really need you to get a hold of yourself. You're making a bad situation worse." Alexander warned her.

"This entire cottage is a bad situation, made worse for every second it is allowed to exist. I can feel the darkness within Maeve even when we're in different rooms. You've already got your eye-patch shifted, you should jump across that table and tear her throat out." Florence suggested eagerly.

This earned her a series of estranged looks from everyone present.

"Don't we normally have to wait for the inevitable betrayal before we're allowed to kill people we don't like? I mean our fearless leader never got around to killing Prince Othmar but you don't see me constantly complaining about it." Mirri Catwarrior pointed out.

"You were able to keep your emotions in check while we were dealing with the Three Sisters." Devi pointed out.

"This isn't the same. There's evil, and then there's corruption. When I look a Maeve, it is so easy for me to to see the darkness that has perverted her into being such a horrific monster! The food she set out would have probably left us all shadow-reft if we ate it, that should be reason enough!" Florence insisted.

"Given that it was already enchanted in other ways, I'm not going to say you're wrong about what eating the food might have done to us. That said, I don't feel righteous enough to start killing people over our appetizers. If the fairy food had been the prelude to an ambush I'd be with you, but Maeve doesn't seem to have any intention to force us to eat the stuff if we refuse it." Alexander pointed out.

"Then make her prove that she's really good for something. She's admitted that she has personally 'transcended' people, force her to help us restore shadows to the people of Briggdarrow." Florence suggested.

"That's not a horrible idea." Alexander admitted.

With this conclusion reached the group returned to the other room and Alexander once again took his seat opposite Maeve.

"So tell me Lady Maeve, do you know why Arla was wandering through your woods?" He began.

"Hasn't come up, children, adults, humans of many different types wander through these woods. Most of them don't make it past the first barrier though." The pale skinned woman reflected.

"It is because someone 'bestowed the transcendence' upon both of their parents, leaving the two to fend for themselves." Alexander provided her with the answer.

"Truly? What marvelous news! If both of her parents were worth of the honor then I'll have to make sure to keep a closer eye on her and see what talents she develops. Do you know what breed took them?" Maeve responded, completley misreading Alexander's intent.

Florence Bastien's began to mouth the words "I will..." before shifting her staff to cover her mouth and make it impossible to read her lips.

"They were just ordinary farmers, and they were taking by the dancing men. Long haired fey who lust for battle." Alexander answered.

Maeve was very still for a moment.

The sense of vaguely bemused and detached calmness which had constantly surrounded her shattered like a mirror beneath a bolder.

"The muryan you mean? That… that can't be!" Maeve all but screamed, yet somehow her voice still remained eerily beautiful.

"If that is what you care to call them. You can ask either Arla or her brother to confirm what I've told you, the… muyran attacked a human village, and they seem to have 'bestowed the gift of transcendence' on every single villager they could find." The blond haired man insisted.

Maeve stood up and began to pace wearily.

"The muryan devote their lives to battle, they care nothing for good or evil, only the wild frenzy of combat. Yet surely an entire village cannot possibly be made of only master craftsmen and warriors worthy of becoming our servants. Whatever can Loht be up to?" She muttered more to herself than her guests.

"How do you know the name 'Loht' exactly?" Alexander couldn't help but ask.

"Loht, the Prince of Shadows is my brother." Maeve admitted as if she was commenting on how it was raining outside.

Florence began to work her teeth back and forth across her lower lip until trickles of a strange golden substance began to leak from it.

If Maeve noticed this fact she chose not to comment on it, instead simply continuing her tale.

"Before we came to this land, my father passed the crown of Arak to me and the Sword of Arak to my brother, decreeing that we would rule equally. Shortly after that event however, our people who had been one began to divide themselves according to their nature.

Still, ever since we came here from our old home, the power of the my brother's Unseelie Court has waxed and that of my Seelie Court has waned. During the great convulsions that shook this land not so long ago even by mortal standards, Loht's sword was lost. Long he sort it in mortal lands, and if he has recovered it, he would surely put in motion plans he has long pondered." Maeve worried.

"What sort of plans do you mean? At the moment I think it is all too likely he's gotten his sword back" Alexander informed Maeve, recalling the blade Mirri had described Loht escaping with back in Keening.

Maeve slowly returned to her seat and took a long drink from a fancy goblet before she could bring herself to answered.

"I believe that my brother must have managed to assemble almost all the pieces of the Regalia of Arak, my father's greatest treasures. The only possible reason to bring these items together however would be to open the Obsidian Gate, and I cannot imagine why he would want to do that!" Maeve exclaimed, something like genuine fear starting to creep into her voice now.

"What is the Obsidian Gate and why can't it allowed to be opened?" The blond haired man inquired, finally feeling like he was making some headway towards understanding this bizarre situation.

"To understand the Obsidian Gate, you must understand our history.

Once there was a mage whose mystical power was so great that the only thing which could possibly rival it was his cruelty. My people call him the Twilight… for to voice his true name is to risk drawing his attention, even today.

First, he used his arcane arts to craft an invincible body for himself, a form which no warrior would ever be able to slay. That was not enough for him though, for next the Twilight captured us.

Once we were spirits of the land, sea, air, forest, and all other forms of nature. Once, but not after the Twilight took us to his horrific homeland, forever linking us to the shadows which filled it, remaking us in his own image.

Nor was that enough to sate his endless lust for power, next the Twilight wished for us to invade other lands so that he might dominate them as well. So we built the Obsidian Gate, and the Twilight crafted a powerful magical ritual that would also ensure the creation of its perfect double on another world.

Except my father, Arak the Earlking, who the Twilight had taken as his seneschal deceived the cruel tyrant! While the Twilight planned to send only a small company of us through the gate, Arak lead the entirety of our people into a new land where we could be truly free!

When the Twilight realized he had been deceived his wrath was without equal. He pursued us through the Obsidian Gate, but Arak choose to stand firm against him. He went forth into a battle that he knew he could not possibly win. Yet he sold his life dearly, delaying Twilight long enough for the rest of us to escape.

As we first entered into this world, Loht was paralyzed with fear at the sound of our father's suffering. Just as it seemed the Twilight might recapture us all, I raised my voice and completed the long planned ritual alone, sealing the Obsidian Gate.

The only other things to pass through it once I began to chant were the mystical items my father had chosen to wear while facing the Twilight, the Regalia of Arak.

Since his own magic had been used to craft the Obsidian Gate the Twilight could not best simply destroy it or force it open while trapped within it. In honor of my father's sacrifice all of us took his name upon ourselves and we became the Arak.

Even with all the years that have passed… I am still utterly certain that should the Obsidian Gate be opened, the Twilight would seize upon the opportunity to subjugate us again." Maeve explained, her voice quivering every time she was forced to use the word "Twilight" as if she could not stop herself of thinking about what (or say better 'whom') it represented.

"Most likely turning his attention to the rest of us next?" Alexander prompted her.

Once again Maeve simply gave a pretty, emotionless, shrug.

"The Twilight's lust for conquest can never be satisfied. That he would eventually seek to control this entire world should go without saying." She replied.

Very slowly Florence Bastien tightly clenched hands began to loosen, and she forced herself to look Maeve squarely in the eye.

"I am sorry for the suffering of your people. I know how slavery before the lash of a tyrant darkens the soul. How such beings seek to remake all they touch into passive puppets, or worse yet into reflections of themselves. Still, this past suffering does not excuse the torments you pass along to other demi-humans, who are not lesser beings simply because of their shorter lifespan though." She insisted.

Maeve simply cocked her head to one side and stared at Florence for a while, saying nothing.

Then she returned her attention to Alexander and the subject at hand.

"You can see how opening the Obsidian Gate would be a disaster for all of us, even my brother himself. If you can stop him from doing it then it would mean a great deal to me." She admitted reluctantly.

"Enough to 'untranscend' the people of Briggdarrow? Keeping in mind I do not mean bring back their 'shadows' as in place the transcended bodies back besides the ones who lost their shadows in the first place. I do not mean to simply use magic to gift them with illusionary shadows. You should understand Lady Maeve, I am going to be as absolutely clear on the subject as I possibly can to avoid latter strife between us.

So, I am talking about restoring these people's shadows, mental facilities, their zest for life, their personalities, and their full range of emotions. You will return to them every single possible piece of who they were. You will as my mother's tales on the subject say, order your servants to temporarily sacrifice a piece of their own being if that is what is necessary to fully restore them.

You will refrain from no effort, you will forgo no approach, you will not cease to toil towards the completion of this task until I tell you in no uncertain terms I am completely satisfied with your efforts. THAT is what I expect you to do for the people of Briggdarrow if you want me to help you." Alexander explained, his right eye blazing all the while.

"Did I not previously explain how the Twilight will inevitably seek to enslave every mortal outside the Shadow Rift and not just my own people?" Maeve asked, sounding generally confused and bewildered that Alexander would wish to set terms on the matter.

"That's the problem with being mortal Queen Maeve, we don't live as long as you do. The Twilight will live forever, and so might you. He will 'inevitably' turn his attention away from those who originally betrayed him, but on what time scale can we expect such a being to act?

If he spends so much as a single short century extracting his vengeance, then I and all the humans I ever knew will be dead of old age before the Twilight could begin to try and enslave us.

So you see Lady Maeve, when you consider the proper matters of scale, while the Twilight might be a matter for mortals to be worried about… not this mortal, not this generation of mortals. This mortal, at this particular moment is concerned with the people Briggdarrow's plight, because that is a problem on a mortal scale. The Twilight is a problem you are concerned about because it is on an immortal scale.

Thus, why it is necessary for you to bargain with me on the matter. Well, either bargain with me, or order your subjects to try and force-feed me faery food..." As Alexander point out that particular option to Maeve, he flashed her a 'smile' showing off a mouth filled with ominously sharp teeth.

"You're using your own shortcomings and weaknesses against me as a bargaining tool…. Well played mortal. I've never considered such an approach, I will simply have to try it myself when next I negotiate. I knew you must have been clever to work your way past all three of my barriers, but never expected you to be clever enough to surprise me!" Maeve openly admitted.

"You wouldn't be the first immortal I've surprised." Alexander reflected calmly.

"Just as well all things considered. Your weakness may very well be your greatest strength in this endeavor. My brother has his agents out in the woods spying on me even now, which is why I require my barriers.

I can't possibly hope to recover the Crown of Arak on my own, Loht would know where I was and what I was trying to do as soon as I stepped beyond my protection. You on the other hand, Loht will doubtlessly consider you beneath his notice and hence you might be able to retrieve the crown without drawing his attention.

It has been hidden within the eternal fire in the Malachite Palace from which Loht now rules. That crown is my most prized possession, the last thing I have to remember my father by… but now it must be destroyed.

Take it to the Obsidian Gate, and cast it in; it will be like locking a door and slipping the key beneath it. As soon as the crown is returned to the realm of shadows from which it came, the magical energies of the place will destroy it. Then it will be completely impossible to reverse the ritual which closed the Obsidian Gate. I never imagined it would be necessary to sacrifice such an important part of our history, but there is no other choice." Maeve sighed.

"The Obsidian Gate, which is in the Shadow Rift, and for that mater so probably is that Malachite Palace you talked about. So, we are going to have to go into the Shadow Rift! Always expect the worse thing possible and you're bound to be right..." Cal moaned, pressing a hand to his face, even though he still had his blindfold on.

"But if there's a palace there then it is probably not just shadow with nothing to stand on, nothing to eat, and nothing to breath!" James contributed helpfully.

"Since none of us have ever been to the Shadow Rift before but you're doubtlessly quite familiar with it, I would appreciate the best map you can draw me. That, and also a map of how exactly you got out of the Shadow Rift and thus how we can get into it.

I've heard rumors that people who just try to walk straight into the Shadow Rift start to feel as if they're fading away, leading to them wisely deciding to turn back and never try it again. Finally, I must ask, once we go inside it, are all the… Arak we encounter going to be servants of your brother?" Alexander pressed.

Maeve slowly began to remove a ring she she wore on her right hand. It bore a strange gem which seemed to be made of onyx, except it was dark to the point that it absorbed all the light that fell upon it.

"I am not without friends in my homeland, it is true. My brother is dominant at the moment, but many there still respect my authority. Take this ring and show them to any of my supporters and they will offer you whatever assistance they can." Maeve explained, and then she got to work slowly, silently, and exquisitely drawing out a pair of maps.

As the group looked over the maps, Devi began to move her hand from Cal's shoulder to his waist.

"Can I borrow your timepiece?" She inquired.

"Go nuts." The alchemist acquiesced.

Devi took the timepiece form him, and gently lead him over to the table, keeping one hand on his body all the while. She then placed the timepiece down on the table and flipped it open.

"Does this twelve hand point north?" Devi Skye wanted to know, after carefully examining the map of of how they were to enter the Shadow Rift.

"East." Maeve answered with another shrug.

Devi grabbed the exquisite feathered pen Maeve had been using and sketched a large "E" near the "top" of the map.

"Thanks for letting us know." She replied with an emotionless smile.

End Chapter.

AN: It is a really, REALLY good thing that Florence /the group don't know the names of various Shadow Fey "Breeds" going into this chapter, especially the more obscure ones. Waff is one of the more obscure ones, they exist only to consume life and light, if anything they are even worse that Powries because Powries honestly enjoy what they do, Waffs just simply flat out hate life.

They are also known as "Shadow Dryads" because while normal Shadow Fey can be fine so long as they find some shelter when the sun goes up, a Waff needs to always return to the shadow of the same tree, which will usually be a tree with a bad history (lots of people being hanged/committing suicide from it) in the first place. If Florence knew what Maeve was saying she probably would have just started busting out the Sunbeam spell and never looked back.

Maeve could as you might guess teach a class on the subject of "not helping your case" because while she's not evil, she is true neutral. She's also an especially self absorbed sort of true neutral (more so than even Cal!), and doesn't care to recognize mortal human emotions as having any worth other than what she decides to give them, and the same goes for mortal lives. She's not intentionally cruel, but she's cold and callous as all get out.

In short, having a meal with her, is like having a meal with a well meaning and friendly person who is completely devoted to Slaanesh, the food may taste great, and the conversation may be interesting, but they're just not operating on the same moral system you are. They'll also probably invite you to take part in an orgy and don't be surprised if they slipped powerful aphrodisiacs into the food, pleasure is desirable after all…

Also the way that Alex negotiates with Maeve is pretty much the only way to effectively negotiate with Shadow Fey, you have to spell things out in exquisite detail, they do not believe in "the spirit of an agreement" and so you must leave them no possible weasel word ways out of doing what you agreed to.

Oh and as established in the last book, Alex's right eye can see through illusions, just reiterating in case it slipped anyone's mind.


	7. Chapter 7

Monster Party Book 6: Only mortal trust or faerie dust….

Chapter Seven: Bricks and mortar will not stay, will not stay, will not stay,

"Well here we are, once we walk through this portal we can begin our long journey into the Shadow Rift. If any of you start to feel like you're fading away let me know!" Alexander Diamondclaw insisted before he took one slow careful step toward the cave's mouth that Maeve's map had indicated.

XXX XXX XXX

"Boss, I don't feel like I'm fading away, but afraid, very, very, afraid, can we go home…? Or baring that, at least back to Tepest?" Cal Wright whimpered.

He wasn't the only one from whom whimpering sounds were emerging at the moment either.

It was as if they had just awakened from a dream. One moment they'd been in Tepest, and now the group suddenly found themselves somewhere else completely.

At their back a sheer cliff rose high into the sky before vanishing into a boiling see of dark black clouds with no sign of a moon.

Devi was holding a lit lantern but she couldn't ever remember getting one out, let alone igniting it.

Nor was that the only change that had come across the group.

Alexander's blond hair was now a glistening silver color and cascaded down his back, now far longer and more unkempt.

Florence Bastien's skin was no longer a normal pinkish hue, instead it had a strange green tint. She was no longer bald either, instead she had blond hair of a strangely straw like texture.

Mirri Catwarrior's own hair now sported a white streak running down the middle, while her skin had become unnaturally pale and two long pointed ears jutted out from under her hair.

James Firecat had somehow misplaced his hat entirely and two distinctly feline ears grew from the top of his head. Tied to his belt by knots made of their own tales were half a dozen squealing rats.

Devi Skye's hair had become blue and her ears much like Mirri's were now pointed.

Callan Wright alone was unchanged… mostly.

"Why am I wearing a purple tie?" The alchemist couldn't help but reflect as he examined his neck-wear more closely.

This particular question fell upon deaf ears as the group considered their more dramatic changes.

"These aren't right!" Mirri huffed as she felt out the size and shape of her ears.

As she did so, she pulled a little too hard on her right ear and it slid off, or at least a portion of it did. She was left holding a what seemed to be a prosthetic ear attachment designed to make it look more elfin in nature.

"Well that's a relief." She sighed upon the discovery.

"They were probably my idea and Cal's handiwork. If he could create fake ears to help make Devi look human, he could probably do the same to help you look more like an Arak." The now silver haired man reflected.

"She's got the right skin tone for it, and her hair is just about long enough to pass for a dancing woman." Devi admitted as Mirri's strangely pale skin was more or less a perfect match for that of the muryan who had attacked Briggdarrow.

"If anyone tries to strike up a conversation with you, just keep talking about how much you like to fight and or dance." Florence advised.

"Can't imagine how I'll pull that off..." Mirri falsely demurred, before flashing a smile that showed very sharp incisor teeth.

"Did you manage to keep a map of wherever we just came from?" James inquired, sliding up close to Devi.

"Maps win more wars than generals. If we don't have one already I always make a new one." Devi insisted as she reached into her bag of holding and thought about what she needed.

A moment later she pulled out a map of "fracture" that they had just spent… some unknown amount of time passing through, even if they had no memory of the fact.

She was able to give it only a solitary glance before the ink started to twist and writhe like a serpent. Soon the black lines bore no resemblance at all to geographic features and instead became a series of letters.

"B-E-T-T-E-R-L-U-C-K-N-E-X-T-T-I-M-E." James read aloud, before even that semblance of order vanished and the ink slid off the page completely, spilling upon the ground creating a small onyx puddle.

"The only thing worse than unbeatable magic is magic that knows its unbeatable." Cal moaned.

"So it seems that our next journey through the fracture is likely to an equally unforgettable experience, except for the part where we all magically forget it. How is our map of the Shadow Rift doing?" Alexander pressed.

Devi produced another map and luckily the ink that had gone into producing this one behaved properly. Oriented with the knowledge of which way lead to Tepest it was not terribly hard to figure out roughly where they had emerged into the Shadow Rift.

"We're here, and ahead of us if we go west is the North Ford over something called Loch Lenore. A short way further west seems to be some kind of road, and if we follow its curving path southish we'll wind up at the South Ford. Straight south west of that ford is the Malachite Palace." Devi explained to the group.

"That sounds simple enough, and here I thought this was going to be a challenge." Mirri huffed crossing her arms.

"If we can infiltrate the palace and find the Crown of Arak, then we need to go south east along the Falling River, which doesn't seem to have any fords across it. Hopefully we can avoid something called the "Biting Tarn" and "Grimfey Flow" though we have to cross the Night Rush and make it into the Stowdowns.

That done, we'll have to deal with the Darkenheights to reach the Obsidian Gate, dispose of the crown, and probably repeat the entire process all over again in reverse to get back to Tepest." Devi added.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and after we dispose of the crown, the mists will manage to sweep us up and take us somewhere else entirely." Cal grumbled, having a distinct impression that anywhere else would inevitably be better than here.

"Don't forget, while we can be relatively sure that east is behind us at the moment, with no sun to go by telling directions might get a little tricky." Alexander worried.

"That problem I do have a solution to Boss!" Cal chimed in with unexpected optomisim.

The Lamordian reached into Devi's bag of holding and produced a small cup, a canteen, a wooden cork, and a piece of rock about the size of standard boot nail. He filled up the cup, jammed the rock into the cork, and dropped both into the water.

A few moments later the rock began to slowly but steadily swing about until it pointed quite firmly to the group's right. Cal then plucked it out, twisted it around, and dropped it back in so they could be certain. Sure enough, just as before the stone turned until it yet again pointed to the group's right.

"Lamordian sailors came up with these things, a piece loadstone floating in any liquid will always point north. You're welcome." He declared with no small amount of pride.

"Well, if we can at least be relatively sure of our bearings then lets march. We don't accomplish anything just standing around." Alexander insisted.

"Yes, the sooner we're done with this place the better." Florence reflected casting a wearily glance upwards.

There was no trace a sun in that dark sky, and somehow she already knew that it would not matter how long they spent n the Shadow Rift, the sun's rays would never find them here.

XXX XXX XXX

The lack of any sort of visible astrological features in the Shadow Rift's sky meant that it was impossible to tell time time by most of the more traditional means.

You could in theory count out the seconds, but such a process would surely drive a man to madness even quicker than the land's strange nature.

Callan Wright's timepiece had been wound down completely when they'd first arrived, but a few quick turns had started it up again. After giving it a thorough and complete servicing, the alchemist had used some string to affix it around his throat where it would serve as a makeshift necklace.

Though Callan Wright had no great love for or belief in any particular god or pantheon, he found something almost supernaturally comforting about its constant ticking. It meant that even here, in a land where magic seemed to pervade the very air, the power of science and mechanisms could still prevail.

The terrain they traveled across was a mostly flat plain at first, not too dissimilar from many other places they had journeyed across in other realms. In the Shadow Rift however nothing was quite how it looked: blades of grass seemed to wave back and forth at the behest of some sort of unseen force, the branches of every single tree they saw danced in a wind that wasn't present.

At one point James' keen eyes managed to pick up the sight (though the sound carried well enough for everyone's ears) of a group of rocks that appeared to be "avalanching" across perfectly level ground. Luckily group was already clear of their path and the stones showed no inclination to change course.

By some strange luck the group managed to make it all the way to the North Ford without encountering any sentient residents of the Shadow Rift.

From somewhere in the dimly lit area ahead it was possible to hear the musical sound of fast-moving water dancing over stones. Not long after came the fresh, cool smell of a rolling stream washed over them, and the air began to carry drifting particles of spray.

In short order they came upon the sight of a stout stone bridge stretching across a wide expanse of water. Coils of ivy like plants with large bulbs entwined the bridges supports. The beautiful flowers glowed with a delicate green light, throwing a steady radiance upon the scene and gave the entire area an entrancing if eerier appearance.

Over the loudly rushing water they could also hear the sounds of hammering. From even further off came the strains of lilting, cheerful tune.

"Arak?" Alexander asked Mirri, referring to both the Shadow Rift's occupants and the language that they spoke.

"Got it in one." The dark haired woman agreed.

"Lets keeps moving before they summon more muyran, assuming they aren't dancing men themselves. Whatever they are, there isn't any sunlight down here, so we can't truly deal with any of the Arak who attack us." The dryad warned him.

Alexander shook his head slowly glancing at the gemstone ring he was still wearing over the black glove on his right hand.

"We're strangers in a strange land Florence, more so than usual. If we can find some of Maeve's supporters they might be able to warn us about exactly how Loht runs things down here." He pointed out, before starting to walk down the embankment towards the sounds' source.

The other five followed him warily, hands tight on weapons and Cal starting to ponder what sort of bullet might be best suited for killing an Arak.

Underneath the bridge they discovered several short stout figures working on its supports. The albino-white skin of these small engineers deeply contrasted with their deep black eyes and hair. Each one sported a long ponytail that hung down their backs and swished like a tail as they worked.

They continued to talk amongst themselves in a language only Mirri could follow, their voices sounding like a combination of nickering and snorting. Still, even before she translated it was obvious from their body language alone that they were extremely frustrated with the stonework they were attending to.

"Do you speak Mordentish?" Mirri called out to them in Arak, though her version the tongue was noticeably more of a whispered hiss than their own loud exclamations.

One of the workers turned in Mirri's direction and tilted his head to the side slightly, clearly having trouble believing what he was seeing. Then he shrugged his shoulders and swung his head back to the bridge grumbling a response in Arak.

"That was 'I don't even know what the name of that mortal tongue means' I believe." Mirri translated.

Undeterred she made a second attempt at reaching out to the miniscule builders.

"What mortal tongues are you familiar with?" She pressed.

"This one." Grunted one of the black haired Arak in accented but understandable Balook.

"What's wrong with the bridge?" Cal called out in that language.

"What's wrong with it? What's right with it at this point! A group of Muryan leading a party of newly transcended to the Malachite Palace decided that it wasn't enough to simply cross a bridge like it was meant to be crossed! No, they had to dance across it, and get all their charges to dance also! They all kept perfect time, which meant they did a perfectly good job wrecking a bridge that shouldn't have needed serious repairs for another few decades at least!" One of the builders grumbled.

The workmen seemed strangely at ease with being questioned by someone who was clearly mortal.

"Oh you mean because their dancing created a mechanical resonance effect?" Cal eagerly pointed out.

One of the black haired pale skinned fey shook his head mournfully.

"Well, yes! You know about mechanical resonance?" The black haired builder asked eagerly.

"Of course I know about mechanical resonance, you wouldn't believe how many of my homelands mechanical golems have been undone by it." Cal declared proudly.

"Look right now I could care less about the hows and whys where you came by that knowledge. What matters right now is that they nearly wrecked the bridge, if any more serious weight gets put on it the entire thing will come down! We're trying to replace the keystone but when the thing was originally built we had plenty of transcended on hand to work with. They're not as good at bridge building as we are, but they are, well… tall." He eventually admitted.

As if to drive the point home, a trio of workers began to try and stack themselves one on top of the other in an attempt to reach the bridge's keystone which was positioned slightly over six feet off the ground. The living tower ended up toppling over almost as soon as it was erected, suggesting the black haired builders worked better with stone than flesh.

"If you need someone tall and strong to hold onto something then Boss can handle it." Cal offered.

"Beta are you telling me what to do?" Alexander sarcastically asked.

"If we want any chance of getting… where we're going we need to cross this bridge. Not having the bridge collapse under us is an important part of crossing it. You're taller and stronger than me, so you're the best choice to help hold their keystone." Callan Wright insisted, laying out his train of logic one step at a time.

The workman who seemed to be in charge took a step back and raised his hands so as to frame Alexander and estimate his height.

"Well if he was any taller he'd probably bump his head on the keystone. Think he'll be strong enough?" The workman inquired cheerily.

"No one is stronger than him." Mirri declared proudly.

Seeing the pale skinned workers' imploring looks Alexander sighed and came forward to help.

As he approached them, he took a moment to surreptitiously flash Maeve's ring in their direction, but none of the black haired Arak reacted to it in the slightest.

For roughly four full minutes he held a new keystone in place as the black haired workmen lashed still more ropes, inserted other stones and applied adhesive chemicals of some sort or another.

"That should do it!" Their leader eventually cried out happily.

Beads of sweat were swept from damp brows and Alexander Diamondclaw finally allowed himself to relax.

"Good job standing still tall one!" One of the workmen 'congratulated' Alexander before turning their attention to a collection of nearby barrels.

At first glance one might have assumed these barrels to have been filled with pitch or other building materials, but given how the workmen began to eagerly pour their contents into stone mugs and start quaffing, such was clearly not the case.

"Help yourself." Their leader declared jovially as he pressed an entire keg of the stuff into Alexander's hands.

The silver haired man took a very long look at the keg, his nostrils flaring, and judging by the smell coming from the other newly opened kegs, he knew in his heart of hearts that it was unquestionably be a superb vintage.

It would be so superb that he'd never be able to drink another human made vintage, and possibly not even eat human food again either.

If his recent experience with Queen Maeve had done only one thing, it was to prove just how correct the stories were about the wisdom of not accepting food offered to you by the Arak.

"I don't drink." Alexander insisted, passing the keg back with a pained look on his face.

"No time like the present to start!" One of the workmen encouraged him.

"I don't drink." Alexander repeated stoically, with a look in his one eye that suggested he was heavily tempted to start bashing his head against the newly strengthened bridge's supports.

"If you want to thank us, just don't tell anybody we passed this way." The green eyed man insisted.

"Oh like we'd want you to talk to muryan after the mess they made of our bridge!" The worker's leader scoffed.

With the bridge properly repaired the group was able to pass over it and press further into the Shadow Rift.

Well most members of the group.

"Running water… I really hate running water..." Mirri Catwarrior moaned as she sunk to her knees, unable to force her body across the bridge.

No sooner had she fallen victim to the traditional vampiric weakness however than did James Firecat step in.

With one smooth motion he bent down and swept Mirri's limp body onto his shoulders.

This done, he proceeded to carry her across the bridge with a look of considerable satisfaction on his face.

"Well they weren't so bad." Cal reflected.

"Apart for how they used us for manual labor and wanted to enslave Alexander for good..." Florence countered.

End Chapter.

AN: Sorry for the delay of this chapter got caught up in playing Blood Bowl 2, but my Chaos team is coming along well!

Mechanical resonance is a real thing, and It is hwy in real life soldiers are supposed to stop marching in formation when they cross a bridge for fear of causing it collapse with their perfectly matching footfalls.

Alex is completely correct in that if you take the beer offered to you by the Brag (the dwarf like Arak working on the bridge) then it will prove to be faerie food, and once you've eaten faerie food it is the only kind of food you can possibly ever draw sustenance from, dooming you to a life of either subservience to or directly stealing from the Arak, probably inevitably leading to you being turned into a changeling.

There really is a lot of that going around in this adventure so Alex is lucky that he's very keen on the subject of not eating food offered to you by magical creatures.

The fracture works more or less as depicted in the story. It will take you from Tepest to the Shadow Rift, but it will also erase your memory of journey there, and any maps you try to make of it will effectively self destruct.

Stuff will happen to you, and you'll survive… but even Arak don't know exactly what going through it is like.

Also feel free to celebrate because our protagonists are now finally back to looking "normal" and James was evidently lucky enough to pick up a collection of rats in the fracture, thus I won't ever need to comment on what he's eating down here (not that the Shadow Rift doesn't have rodents to hunt, it's just a fair number of them may turn out to be Arak of the Fir Breed who will be understandably upset over the matter and promptly start calling down muryan on the mortal who attacked them.

Finally, Cal's makeshift process for generating a compass is entirely correct. At least as "correct" as any compass can be in Ravenloft when there's no actual magnetic north pole, and the world is by all rights flat rather than a proper sphere, but the Dark Powers make arrangements so that compasses work normally and reliably.


	8. Chapter 8

Monster Party Book 6: Only mortal trust or faerie dust.

Chapter Eight: Why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends?

The six adventurers traveled onwards into the Shadow Rift along that nameless road which would hopefully take them first to the South Ford and then the Malachite Palace.

The more time they spent there, the more the group grew accustomed to their surroundings, no matter how bizarre they might be. The six had traveled across many strange lands after all, and even if this was unquestionably one of the strangest, it was only by matters of degree rather than something truly unexpected.

Spotting a mossy rock perched more less directly in the middle of the road, Alexander shifted his pace slightly. He gave the rock a quick nudge from his foot to make sure that neither he nor any of the other ended up tripping over it.

"Ooph!" Cried out a rather high pitched voice.

A small head, arms, legs, and tail poked out from beneath the stone, or shell as it suddenly proved to be. The turtle he'd just kicked looked up at him reproachfully. Its glare was made was frostier still by a pair of tiny spectacles perched on the end of its nose.

"I'm sorry…?" Alexander awkwardly apologized to the "turtle" he'd just kicked.

Seeking to mend fences as quickly as possible, he twisted his wrist and flashed Maeve's black stone ring towards the "reptile" that he suspected to be some manner of Arak.

The turtle rocked itself back and forth and slowly managed to rise up onto its two back legs.

"Apology accepted." It replied a touch gruffly.

Then it broke into something approximating a bow, almost falling over in the process.

"Cradoc, a portune of high attainment and unimpeachable reputation. Always a pleasure to meet a servant of the Princess!" Cradoc introduced himself.

"Portune? You look more like a turtle to me." James Firecat couldn't help but point out, as he got down on all fours to take a better look their newest acquaintance.

"I suppose I do." The portune admitted, seemingly completely unruffled by the young lycanthropes comments.

"The turtle you see is a shape quite uniquely suited for the prospect of study. My normal form is a bit too flighty, too easily shifted around by winds or other disturbances. A turtle's shape though is perhaps the best one imaginable for the prospect of slow and unbroken study, which should be the goal of any scholar." Cradoc explained.

"Scholar of what?" Callan Wright inquired kneeling down before the portune as well.

"I've spent the last five centuries cataloging all the mosses of the Shadow Rift, including lichen! I'm only working on them of course because I've already studied ferns, fungi, and water-plants. Not that I've completely eschewed the physicality of animals." Cradoc explained to them.

Then his eyes didn't quite blink, but his neck extended a little bit further out as he looked at James.

"I say, you're mortal, aren't you?" The Arak inquired in considerable consternation.

"Mortal enough." The werecat answered having taken no offense.

"Would you be willing to do me a considerable favor and place me upon your head?" The portune asked, as if this was perfectly ordinary request.

James calmly reached out, took the portune, and rested him atop his head.

There the turtle shaped Arak began to gently poke and prod at his ears.

"This, this, isn't correct all! For a start, these should be several inches lower, I'm quite certain of that." He announced.

Then twisting his head around he gave the others a cursory glance to make sure that indeed no one else had ears growing from the top of their head.

"As I thought. While hair growing from the top of the head is quite traditional, ears shouldn't be here, and they shouldn't look anything like this! I believe..." The portune reached out with its paws and began to poke and prod his the werecat's ears, making them flap down or rotate slightly.

"Yes, a much greater degree of mobility than is traditional in such things. I suppose their peculiar shape would allow for effective triangulation of sound though. An interesting adaptation for the purpose of survival. Are there a lot of them like you up on the surface now?" Cradoc pressed on.

"Not really… they're a defect." James admitted blushingly slightly.

"Defect? Since when are improvements defects? With thinking that muddled I'm amazed you lee-due don't one day accidentally go out for a walk and fall up into the sky!" The portune blustered.

"Well I'm a werecat, but my mother has always had perfect shape control and I've never been able to alter my ears..." James explained, clearly embarrassed by the fact.

"A what now?" Cradoc coughed, clearly not familiar with the term.

Rather than tell James decided to show.

He concentrated and his entire body began to shift and transform. He shrunk down into the shape of a somewhat larger than average red furred housecat, causing Cradoc to fall to the ground.

The portune was anything but upset by this turn of events though, it awkwardly rose onto its back two legs and hopped about in the most energetic manner its turtle body could manage.

"Fascinating! Are you sure you don't have any Arak blood in you?" He pondered.

James reverted back to his human form (taking a moment to recollect the rats that had momentarily fallen to the ground when his belt ceased to exist) before answering, since he doubted his conversation partner would be able to speak 'cat' whatever other languages he might have mastered.

"Pretty sure. Through my mother I can trace my lineage back to the mighty Jalal Pawe, while my father's side of the family has been in Richemulot for as long as anyone remembers." He explained calmly.

"Interesting. Clearly what we're seeing here is some sort of occult form of evolution! I mean you don't need to be a scholar of my years to know that the standard mortal body is inefficient when compared to any breed Arak.

Yet it would seem that I hadn't quite given them enough credit. Their almost absurdly frequent reproductive habits clearly exist for more than simply sustaining their numbers in a world for which they are ill-equipped for, but also must allow for new breeds to arise at a far greater rater than we produce them.

If those new breeds offer such noticeable improvements and continue to reproduce frequently then over time I'd imagine they'd be bound to supplant the older less efficient ones. I saw the exact same thing happen in the Black Marsh because of this truly fascinating I strain of plant I discovered there and decided to name kuzu.

The stuff grew prodigiously, so prodigiously that there were times when I'll admit it required some effort for my current form to keep ahead of its spread… at least if I allowed myself a nap or two at the wrong time." The portune reflected.

"We don't really want to replace anyone, we're just here to help a little." James insisted.

The portune curled its webbed hand into as much of a fist as a turtle could manage and smacked them as firmly against the lycanthropes head as a turtle could manage.

"Pure folderol and poppycock! What you 'want' doesn't enter into it! Those who are best suited for survival win in the end. Unless of course some unexpected external factor acts in favor of the less suited breeds.

My alven cousins for example insist that 'prettiness' is desirable trait in flowers and do what they can to direct their groves along those lines. Now, it goes without it saying that 'beauty' an insubstantial and ill-defined term is no suitable goal for a species, but try telling them that. Besides, it is the goal of a true scholar to observe without affecting, thus making it possible for others to observe in turn. What an ill-spent century of my life that was…." The Arak grumbled to himself.

Seeing that Cradoc had mostly completed his studies, James gently plucked the portune from his head and placed it back on the ground.

"Well it was… interesting talking to you…?" The werecat eventually settled on, not quite sure what else could be said.

The portune abruptly broke into another of his awkward bows.

"The pleasure was all mine. I doubt I'll run across such an intriguing band of mortals again for another millenia..." He replied before sinking back down onto all fours like a proper turtle and starting to shamble away at a less than impress pace.

The group continued the way they had been heading, and eventually Cal Wright spoke up.

"They sure make em strange down here." He couldn't help but admit.

"You think they don't make em strange back in the Core proper?" Devi countered, sending him a patronizing look.

"They don't make quite so many of em quite so strange." The alchemist offered by way of a compromise.

XXX XXX XXX

The next strange thing the group encountered was flowers…

As they crested a hill they found a rolling landscape stretching for miles before them, every inch of it covered with flowers of countless types. Bees and butterflies busily buzzed and flapped among the blossoms, and some of those butterflies must be a full foot across!

"Florence is it okay if we go forward, or do we need to go around?" Alexander asked, always careful not to needlessly extinguish floral life around the dryad.

Before she had a chance to answer however, one of the large butterflies flapped over and alighted upon the Alexander's extended finger.

"What do you think they are?" Pipped up a high pitched voice in strangely accented Balook.

"Not sure, never seen transcended quite like them, look at his hair!" Answered another oversized butterfly in Forfarian as it positioned itself on top of the silver strands in question.

"It was speaking on its own a moment ago, they don't normally do that!" Declared a third one that plopped down on his shoulder, this one using Mordentish.

Clearly the groups' well traveled was paying dividends, as these strange oversized talking butterflies saw no need to confine themselves to a single tongue.

"They sometimes do, they just don't mean anything by it, they're like brightly colored parrots that way." A fourth butterfly insisted (in Falkovnian) as it perched upon Florence's right shoulder.

"He's certainly 'brightly colored' enough, beautiful plumage." Yet another declared (in Lamordian) as it took up position on the dryad's other shoulder.

"Beg pardon?" Alexander coughed.

"It speaks again!" Declared all the overlarge butterflies at once in joy (and various different languages).

"We're also not transcended." Cal clarified to them.

Though this was perhaps saying too much, though considering all the horrible things the six had faced down, none of them had much to fear from slightly larger than normal insects. Well, slightly larger than normal insects of the Rhopalocera suborder, which were not known for their stingers, jaws or aggressive poisons.

"Well, if you're not transcended, what are you doing here?" Yet another butterfly asked eagerly as it landed on Cal's head.

"It is a very long, and very boring story." Alexander explained, taking a moment to subtly flash Maeve's ring in the direction of the strange creatures.

Instantly another squeal of delight went up amongst them.

"Oh no it isn't!" Hissed the very first of the creatures which was now flapping over towards the ring.

"There can't be anything boring about Princess Maeve, she throws the best parties." Gushed another bizarre butterfly.

"She always makes sure to have the amazing flower arrangements." Another agreed quite decisively.

"Princess Maeve wants us to go somewhere and retrieve something for her." Alexander admitted.

Though the Arak ruler in exile had insisted that only her servants would know the meaning of the ring, he still felt it best not to be completely open about the task they'd been given.

"So, who are you exactly?" James asked butterflies.

An "enormous" (in the sense of being slightly larger than a human thumb) bee began to buzz in the werecat's direction.

This for the lycanthrope was a horse of a different color than the butterflies, and he fell back raising a gloved hand to defend himself.

Luckily before he actually struck, the bee transformed. It became a humanoid figure, though still of roughly insect like stature, being only about a foot or so tall. It was a tiny woman with pale skin, brightly speckled butterfly wings, and a tuft of hair that was an even brighter shade of red than James' own.

"We are alven." The Arak answered.

"How do you serve Maeve?" Devi inquired.

One by one, the butterflies began to transform into their true shape, not that said shape was so truly different.

"Isn't it obvious?" Giggled one which alighted amidst the elf's blue hair.

"We tend the gardens that feed our brothers and sisters. We grow the flowers that still bring delight to those who have lived for thousands of years!" The alven insisted proudly.

Florence Bastien very slowly held out one of her hands and extended her index finger, silently inviting one of the Alven to land upon it.

Her offer was accepted and she gazed deeply into a pair of small blue eyes below a head of bright crimson hair.

"Even in this eternal darkness, you still manage to grow beautiful flowers." She admitted solemnly.

The alven flapped its wings happily as its nodded in agreement.

"The very best of flowers that can grow without light! We've scoured the entire world beyond the rift for them! That batch over there, I found them in a castle Barovia. The poor things were were nearly being choked by weeds, but someone must have cared for them quite deeply once..." The Arak explained in Balook.

"We have no desire to trample something so beautiful, but we must get to the Malachite Palace." Florence explained to the alven.

"Why would you want to go there? It is dreadfully dull, all cold metal and stone, nothing grows there. Princess Maeve used to keep some flowers around to lighten the place up and make us feel more at home, but her brother sees no need to make us welcome." The small Arak harrumphed.

"What we need for the Princess is being kept there." Florence admitted.

Even as she had this conversation, she could still feel a powerful taint of "dark essence" coming from their new acquaintances. If there was less of it in them than in the muryan or the redcap,s it was only because they were the smallest Arak the group had encountered so far.

"Well good luck, if you want get there all you have to do is fly eckward til you first sniff Logan's oak, then bear andwards to just before you whiff the willows, ride the thermals up and go windwards to the clover..." The Arak began to explain, blithely ignoring why said explanation would obviously do the group no good.

Even as she spoke, the alven began to flap her wings, clearly tempted to take to the air again. Florence could feel a rising desire to grab the small creature in her fist and ring more sensible directions from it.

She could feel that desire rising up from her stomach, and she strove to fight it back down to the soles of her feet and out of her body.

"We can't fly." She announced slowly, without anger or accusation in her voice.

The alven slowed its wing flaps, and turned to face her once again.

"Not even a little? Hmm… that will be a problem for you." It admitted casually.

Since the little Arak would not come to the obvious conclusion Florence decided he'd have to prompt it.

"You could come with us." The dryad suggested.

Straight away the alven began to start flapping its wings again shaking her head all the while.

"Come with you? Please! The Malachite Palace is far too dull to go there." It insisted once again.

"If you come with us… I will tell you tales of every single daylight blooming flower I have laid eyes upon." Florence offered.

Those tiny wings went abruptly still, and the alven began to crawl along Florence's arm so that it could look her more closely in the eye.

"Really?" The Arak half whispered.

"Yes, I promise. What is your name?" Florence reassured it while finally asking the obvious question.

"Leilani..." Answered the alven cheerfully.

"I'm Florence, Florence Bastien." Florence likewise introduced herself.

"We still can't fly, and we still don't want to crush your flowers." Devi abruptly pointed, out, bringing the conversation back to the most obvious matter at hand.

"You say that, but if you can't fly how do you plan to avoid doing it?" Another alven spat back.

"What do you do when the transcended need to pass this way?" Alexander inquired, figuring that there had to be a way across the huge flower field without doing too much damage to it.

"We could give them the air step?" Leilani offered.

"Do you really have to go this way?" An as yet introduced alven pouted.

"Of course they need to come this way, they're on a mission from Princess Maeve! So we'd best give them the air step or they'd crush the flowers!" Leilani insisted, now that Florence had managed to convince her to accompany them, the alven was filled with considerable zeal on the subject.

A chorus of high pitched voices rose in response to Leilani's determination.

For the first time, they all spoke in the same language, chanting in sylvan a spell that Florence was quite familiar with. Different alven enchanted different members of the group, but the spell was the same from all of them.

Alexander took a slow careful step forward, and sure enough he was able to plant it firmly upon thin air six inches above the ground. He did the same with his other, and soon he was standing a few inches above the flowers. With the aid of the airwalk spell all six of them could cross the flower fields without actually stepping on them.

"Now then, where to begin..." Florence pondered searching her mind for all the plants she knew.

"Lamiaceae Nepta..." James eagerly began to suggest before Florence (who was able to guess how that particular sentence was going to go) cut him off.

"I suppose that is as good as any flower." She reflected.

"Better than most!" The werecat insisted.

"It is a white flower..." The dryad began.

End Chapter.

AN: You can guess what Flower James is interested in, you really should be able to guess.


	9. Chapter 9

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust…

Chapter Nine: I steal from the rich, and give to the needy! He takes a wee percentage, but I'm not greedy!

"Then we have wolfsbane, dark green leaves lacking stipules. They are palmate or deeply palmately lobed with five, six or seven segments. Each segment again is three lobed, with coarse sharp teeth. The leaves have a spiral arrangement. The lower leaves have long petioles.

The tall, erect stem is crowned by racemes of large blue, purple, white, yellow or pink flowers with numerousstamens. They are distinguishable by having one of the five petaloid sepals, called the galea, in the form of a cylindrical helmet; hence why some call it monkshood.

Beautiful to look at, but that doesn't make it any less poisonous." Florence continued to explain to their Arak guide.

Leilani in turn was was quite entranced with the Dryad's words (even the other five couldn't always follow along). In fact, the alven was so taken with the conversation that every so often the others needed to remind her that she was supposed to be guiding them to the Malachite Palace.

Still, thanks to Leilani's insight they had managed to avoid a huge patch of carnivorous "hungry grass" and also keep from earning the ire of a bushel of lashweeds that the alven used to protect some of their more cherished floral creations.

"Some people claim that it also has magical properties for driving off wolves, be they spiritual or physical. While smearing it against your blade will work against most physical wolves, its powers against spiritual ones are highly overrated…." Alexander interjected, adding one of the few bits of botanical knowledge he possessed.

Florence abruptly stopped walking, bracing herself against her staff as she was overcome by a debilitating fit of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Demanded Leilani, her wings flapping back and forth, irritated by her companions sudden mirth, and clearly concerned that it might be at her expense.

"He only knows that last bit because once upon a time he couldn't go a single day without seasoning his meals with the stuff! Honestly, that wolf spirit he was so busy trying to drive off was probably the only reason he survived the experience!" Florence chuckled, wiping an amber colored tear from her eyes.

Now that she knew the context Leilani eagerly in joined in the laughter, being so stricken by it that she would have fallen from her perch on Florence's shoulder if the dryad hadn't reached out a hand to hold her tight.

"Yeah, I used to be quite the asshole." Alexander admitted.

"Don't say that Sir." Mirri insisted.

"Yeah Boss, there's nothing 'used to' about it!" Cal snickered.

"In reality, to deal with 'spiritual' wolves, you need to use the 'Moonflower' that grows only in Verbrek. Though to be perfectly honest the stuff can really only hold them at bay rather than fully driving them off. Its flowers are a delicate silver color and will blossom only under the light of the full moon..." Florence began.

"How much of that did he eat?" The alven demanded to know, not quite done finding amusement in Alexander's suffering.

"Only a single petal, and only because of a dare. He'd made a lot of progress by then." Florence admitted, though she still couldn't help but chuckle slightly,.

"I can tell, he's much better behaved than most teg, I bet he doesn't even scent marks his territory!" The alven giggled, using the proper Arak name for the "bogies" of whom Alexander had spoken previously.

"He's not a teg, he's a muryan. He's fine company most of the time, so long you can make sure that he's pointed at the right person, said person being someone you want cut to pieces." Florence insisted, using terminology that would make sense to Leilani.

"Ah of course, I should have been able to tell by his hair." The alven quickly agreed.

Before the conversation could go any further, Alexander squinted slightly and then pointed in the distance.

"I can see the Malachite Palace now. Unless you have some particular bits of strategic advice on the mater I don't think we need your help anymore." The silver haired man insisted.

Leilani squinted herself, but her eyes were nowhere near as keen as Alexander's. Then she sniffed slightly, taking in the scent of all the nearby plant life. A moment later her wings began to beat more forcefully and she slowly rose into the air.

"I suppose you're right. It was a pleasure to talk of flowers with you Florence Bastien. It is a shame I didn't get a chance to tell you all the wonderful we ones we grow down here! You need to come back to my grove once you're done with the Princess's' business!" She insisted.

"What she's doing at the moment is unlikely to be her only errand for the Princess. Maeve would be most displeased with you if something happened to one of her servants." Alexander pointed out, figuring the alven would be able to figure out for herself just what a bad idea it would be to try and "overly prolong" her companionship with the dryad at the moment.

The tiny Arak gave him a quick nod and then flapped off.

Only once she'd flown far enough away not to hear did Florence speak up.

"I still know not to eat or drink anything she offers me." The dryad bristled.

"Just protecting my mate." Alexander insisted.

XXX XXX XXX

The closer the group got to the Malachite Palace, the more a subtle air of awkwardness began to press in upon them. Looking up at its magnificent facade, it was almost as if the castle itself was looking back at them.

With every step they took the feeling got stronger, it was like the building was alive, aware of their very presence in a way that stone piled upon stone unquestionably should not be. It was as if stepping inside the palace would be just like entering into the mouth of some great beast, left with no protection other than hoping it would not close its jaws and swallow.

As ominous as the Malachite Palace looked though, it was somewhat lacking in traditional defenses. There was no moat, no curtain wall, no massive gatehouse, not even a group of muryan patrolling the perimeter. The huge doors were closed and quite likely barred, but there was no one in sight to keep them from just walking up and knocking.

Not that this was Alexander's first plan of attack.

"So, now what?" Devi asked, crossing her arms as if to ward off a chill.

"Well, now all we need to do is get in there." Alexander reflected.

"Front door?" Mirri asked, eager for another fight.

"I can see two huge open windows, if you can get us up to them, that should do the trick." He decided.

The two windows in question had been designed to look like a pair of glowering eyes, but at least they weren't barred.

"I'll be able to get to them." Mirri insisted, still a little upset by her failure back at Maeve's first barrier.

"Give her the rope Devi." The silver haired man insisted.

The blue haired elf began to extract an extremely long coil of rope form her bag of holding and handed it over to Mirri.

The vampire walked right up to the Malachite Palace holding the rope in one hand as she prepared to do the impossible.

The Malachite Palace was exquisitely crafted, in the light of Devi's lantern its walls gleamed like onyx.

Mirri pressed her one free hand against it, and then a wicked look of triumph filled her face.

The black haired woman ascended up the side of the Malachite Palace with complete and utter contempt for its slick surface. The rope trailed back behind her as she moved upward with a graceful ease which suggested gravity had suddenly decided to pull her at a ninety degree tilt to everyone else.

In short order she made her way up to one of the windows and vanished through it. A few moments later the rope she'd carried gave a quick shake. suggesting that she'd found something to anchor it against. The other five members of the group started to climb up the rope, Cal (who went last) took a moment to give it several tugs once he started climbing. Having been given the correct signal, Mirri began to pull up the rope to help ease their journey. Soon enough they managed to one and all climb in through the window, once the rope was fully retracted there was next to no trace of their entrance.

"So where are we?" Cal pondered as he looked around the room.

Its walls were a polished gleaming black, set with tiny flecks of glowing crystal. These multicolored pinpricks of light made it look as if they were surrounded by an empty void, broken up by a few shining prismatic stars. Scattered around the room, literally floating in this sea of darkness were countless spheres of luminescent glass.

"Magical?" Alexander asked, giving the balls a very careful examination.

Florence cast a quick spell and nodded.

"They don't quite look like they're some sort of bizarre security system, still..." Alexander pondered as he motioned for the others to stay where they were.

So far the orbs hadn't launched any kind of attack upon the intruders, but who knew how long that would last for. Very slowly, Alexander twisted his eye patch around so that it would cover his left eye rather than his right.

That done, he focused his attention on the room's one obvious exit, a door on the far wall. The silver haired man began to slowly stroll towards it, giving the glowing orbs as wide a berth as possible, hoping he could avoid angering any spirits that dwelled within them.

It seemed to work, the strange spheres were content to simply float there and sparkle. Perhaps they were nothing more than some sort of bizarre form of Arak artistry, existing for no other reason than to look pretty, not that he was going to test that particular theory.

When he made it to the door without being assaulted by bolts of lighting, balls of flame, shards of ice or any other sort of mystical danger he motioned for the others to follow.

"Give the balls as much space as possible and they don't seem to care. Understand my meaning Omega?" He called out, not wanting a certain saying about cats and curiosity end up proving itself to be no simple turn of phrase.

James nodded in understanding and he kept his hands to himself along with staying a safe distance from the spheres while he crossing the room. The others did likewise, and soon all six of them had made it to the door, Alexander still leading the way.

They next found themselves entering into a long hall with walls of polished black stone. Two parallel rows of white marble statues and figurines stood in the center of this room. Every single one of one them was a masterpiece, so exquisitely crafted that they looked more alive than any adult they'd met in Briggdarrow.

The walls of this gallery were hung with a great many portraits. At first the paintings appeared to be lit in some unusual fashion, but then it became clear that they were "simply" framed mosaics of stained glass. Some property of the glass made it glow warmly, causing the portraits to resemble living beings, almost as if they were people translated into stained glass and trapped in unchanging perfection.

He saw a door leading out of this room on the far wall.

"Whatever you do don't touch the paintings!" Alexander instantly warned, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck go up.

None of the people in those paintings seemed to be actively suffering or crying out for help, but that did little to reassure him. Just like back at Maeve's third barrier, you either respected fairytale magic or you suffered for your hubris.

"Want me to check to see if they're actually magic? The paintings and statues could be nothing more than a distraction, and we'd end up walking right into some sort of a mystical portal on the floor." Florence offered.

I don't see the harm in it." Alexander nodded in agreement, best to let the dryad sort out the difference between the simply exquisitely crafted and the actively mystical.

Florence repeated the same spell that she had used before.

"All the statues are completely mundane, as for the paintings nearly all of them are unremarkable..."

"Except for that one?" Cal guessed pointing towards one particular painting.

Despite the fact that the alchemist had no mystical aptitude of any kind (in fact if there was such a thing as a negative amount of ambient magical talent, that was how much Callan Wright had) he was right.

On the other hand, just about anyone with a functioning pair of eyes probably could have come to that conclusion.

It wasn't hard to guess when the painting in question suddenly seemed to be overflowing its own frame. The glass that it was made of oozed off of the wall and onto the floor, more and more of it emerging with every passing moment.

Shining like bright crystal it twisted and writhed, reshaping itself from a prismatic puddle into a humanoid figure. It held out its hands and still more of the strange glass flowed and twisted around its limbs, arming the construct with a two handed bastard sword made from the same material as its body.

"I guess that would be the harm..." Devi pointed out dryly as it began to advance towards them.

Cal brought up Phoenix, but Alexander jerked his head with such speed that some of his flowing silver hair temporarily got between the rifle and its target.

"This guardian is probably tasked with protecting this room, and just this room. The fact that we don't hear any singing suggests whatever dancing men are around don't know we're here yet, lets try not to make it too obvious. Get behind me, and I'll handle this thing!" He promised them, wary of how much noise firing Phoenix would make.

The glass golem thrust out its sword at Alexander even though they they were still over ten feet apart form one another. A bright shining rainbow of seven intertwined beams of light sprayed from the blade. A bright shining indigo light washed over Alexander Diamondclaw as he stood his ground.

"After all I've been through it'll take more than that..." He huffed dismissively.

As the last traces of the mystical assault died away, Alexander raced forward to deal with the glass golem before it could launch another one.

The creature was all too ready to settle for martial combat, and its sparkling sword crafted miniature rainbows in the wake of every swing.

Wolf Claw came up to meet it at every turn though. Alexander's sword seemed to be noticeably less mystical, but it was equally strong and firm. Its owner whistled a few quite notes as his feet became a blur of speed.

"Charming quip, biting witticism, mocking declaration! Lupine themed pun!" Alexander cried out as he launched his own attacks upon the glass golem, though they were stymied at every turn.

"I don't think this thing is likely to get distracted any time soon!" He warned to the others, as indeed there wasn't much point in trying to outwit a creature that didn't even think in the first place.

Florence waved her hands and spoke in Sylvan. A moment later, the stone underneath the glass golem's feet suddenly parted as a gigantic fist rose up out of the floor and grabbed hold of the creature by its waist.

The rocky hand began to squeeze and cracks started to appear on the glass golem's body, forcing it to divert its attention. It struggled mightily, trying to cut the rocky limb holding it to pieces.

That distraction was all the opportunity Alexander needed.

He raced forward toward the captured monster, and carefully darted to the side of another rock hand which tried to seize him. Wolf Claw lashed out and as the golem tried to raise up its blade to counter him, the hand still gripping it squeezed tight and pinned its arms tight against its side.

Alexander's blade sliced clean through the glass golem. Its bisected body collapsed to the ground and the silver haired man jumped backwards just in time to avoid being grabbed by a third rock hand.

"Appropriate concluding statement!" He declared, sounding quite proud of himself.

As Florence dismissed her somewhat uncontrollable spell, he slowly began to examine the area around them, wondering if any more of the artwork was suddenly going to attack them. For the moment however, all was quiet and still.

"So, nothing else in the room is magical at all, right?" Cal brought up, as he examined an exquisite painting of an Arak of some sort busy with many bubbling beakers.

"It should all be mundane now." Florence confirmed.

"So, how much of it are we taking?" Mirri asked, her own eyes being drawn to another painting, this one showing a mighty stallion of some sort with flaming hooves.

"You do realize that these paintings are treasures of the Arak that could date back twice as long as you've been undead. Who are we to..." Alexander began before his serious words dissolved into a derisive snickering.

"We'll limit ourselves to stealing one for every shadow they took from the people of Briggdarrow." The silver haired man declared.

"About time, remember we didn't make any money at all during the last job..." Cal reflected as she picked the painting up off the wall and handed it over to Devi.

The blue haired elf slid the painting easily into her bag of holding. It wasn't the last one either, many other paintings and statues soon followed it.

"The last job was about reuniting a pair of young lovers, well that and then a father's love for his daughter. What I'm saying is we can't always get make out like bandits." The group's leader reminded the alchemist as he dropped a small statue of a muryan into Devi's bag.

"So how much do you think this stuff will be worth?" James pondered, grabbing a picture of a splendid black cat, perched on a woman's shoulders.

"Given some of the stories I've heard, probably about one human soul or horrific twist of fate each. If you mean actual money, platinum easily to the right art dealer." Alexander answered.

"We aren't actually going to get horribly cursed, and neither are the people we sell them to, right?" The werecat asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Nobody ever gets cursed in a story because they bought something fey in origin from a perfectly ordinary person. Okay, we're not exactly 'perfectly ordinary', but we're close enough in this particular case. As for if we're gonna get cursed, Florence checked, no magic is protecting them at the moment, so no curses." Alexander explained calmly.

That was all the reassurance James needed to grab another painting off the walls.

The group looted their way down the hallway, and eventually came to a pair of doors alongside a staircase leading up. Both of the doors had great big locks on them, but despite their size and strength the locks were elegant, almost as beautiful in their way.

"Lets see what is behind door number one..." The silver haired man suggested, figuring that anything worth locking was worth looking into, especially when an Arak did the locking.

James pulled out his lock-picking tools and got to work. About twenty seconds later he heaved a heavy sigh.

"I think these locks are magic Alex." He huffed in disappointment.

"What makes you say that?" Devi pressed.

James withdrew what was left of his lock-pick, it looked as if the lock had somehow bit down, broken, and eaten at least half of the small metal bar.

"Florence, demagicafy the locks." Alexander ordered.

The dryad did, and then James had another go (with a fresh lock pick) at them. This time around after a bit more fiddling about he managed to defeat the now exquisitely crafted but entirely mundane lock.

One soft push later the door slid open to reveal an entirely empty room. A tick layer of dust covered the floor, and large, intricate spider webs filled every corner. The breeze kicked up by the group's entrance was visible in tiny swirls of dust that rose up from the floor.

Judging from the stale taste of the air that rushed out to great them, it had been a very long time since anyone had entered this room.

"Well that's a let down." The werecat huffed.

"No it isn't, there's just magic in your way." Alexander half whispered, his right eye continuing to see right through every illusion it met.

Florence let loose with another spell to remove mystical enchantments.

A moment later the room began to shimmer, and then it wasn't empty anymore. No, now it was very, very full.

Of treasure.

Piles of coins, covered the floor and chests filled with all manner of trinkets stood along the walls. The place had goblets, rings, crowns, medals, whistles and just about anything else someone might want, all of it solid gold.

Callan Wright took off his glasses, breathed on them, gently wiped them clean with a sleeve of his jacket and put them back on before he spoke, his voice hushed and reverent.

"So, this is what people mean when they talk about having a religious experience." The alchemist admitted.

"Finally found something you're willing to fall down on your knees and worship?" Devi teased, though she didn't take her eyes off the tremendous pile of treasure either.

"Before we take any of this, we should have Florence check it for curses." Alexander pointed out, surreptitiously keeping a firm hand on Cal's shoulder lest his greed get the better of him, something which never ever ended well when dealing with fey of any sort.

More Sylvan chanting.

"It isn't cursed." She dryad answered.

"James start checking it for traps." Alexander ordered equally briskly.

The werecat did what he could, but eventually he couldn't help but shrug, there was too much treasure laying around for any one being to inspect all of it at once.

"How much of it do we take?" Cal whimpered in delight.

Alexander extended his index fingers and spun them around.

"All of it." The silver haired man answered with a predatory grin.

A moment later Callan Wright attached himself to the taller man in much the same way that a barnacle attaches itself to a sea going vessel.

"Boss, you really are the best. I hate all the weird shit you get me into, but you really are the best…." The Lamordian insisted, his voice almost choked with emotion.

After about half a minute or so he was finally able to pry himself loose and set about shoveling treasure into Devi's bag of holding with a maniacal light in his blue eyes.

End Chapter

AN: In normal D&D/most D&D related lands, if you eat some Wolfsbane shortly after being infected by lycanthropy, you have a chance of shaking it off. In Ravenloft however, you need to do a whole bunch of other stuff to possibly be able to shake off lycanthropy, and Alex isn't a lycanthrope anyway, so his eating wolfsbane isn't going accomplish anything other than giving him a chance to role D&D.

The special flower that Florence mentions from Verbrek on the other hand, grants a +10 bonus to your control shape skill rolls, and thus can be very useful for afflicted werewolves hoping to try and at least gain some measure of control over their transformations.

The golem in this section has the power to use prismatic spray, which it does. The indigo light is supposed to drive people insane but Alex made his will save.

I really had to dig deep to find a good spell for this situation and decided on "Stonehold" which doesn't differentiate between friends and foes, which is why Alex needs to keep avoiding becoming victim to it also.

Oh and expect this chapter to be revised and reposted tomorrow and I may be doing posts every other week for a while till I get everything in my life lined up properly, dealing with some minor stuff but still busy all the same.


	10. Chapter 10

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust.

Chapter Ten: They say that it's time that you lost your crown…

The group eventually departed from the Malachite Palace's treasure room with a frankly incredible amount of loot in tow.

Flushed with pride and satisfaction, the six adventurers got to work on the door next to the treasure room, after all, it wasn't impossible that it might be a second vault!

Once again, Florence used her magic to reduce the lock to nothing more than an inert piece of metal and then James started picking it. After some work, he was reward with a soft "click" and the door swung open.

This chamber was decorated in elegant tapestries and plush furs. Comfortable pillows were thrown about, although they could see no tables or chairs of any kind. Two unsual sources of light illuminated this room; dozens of insects with brightly glowing backsides flitting to and fro, periodically contributing their own yellow-white flares.

In addition to these blinking flashes of light, vases with delicate luminescent flowers stood in every corner, throwing rainbow hues on the gleaming black walls. They cast shadows which seemed to twist and writhe, as if trying to escape from the multicolored glow. Along one wall stood a great bed, draped like a veil of mist.

As they looked through the gauzy folds, it suddenly struck them that someone was peering back at them! As quickly as fear and adrenalin began to grip at their hearts, another realization struck them, someone was not staring at them, something was!

It was a carved female face, protruding from the dark wood of the headboard. Her appearance had been crafted so exquisitely that it was possible for the group to realize that they'd seen this woman before in one of their recently acquired paintings.

"How much magic is there to worry about in this room?" Alexander pressed.

Florence started casting and soon enough had her answer.

"None." She answered after a quick cantrip.

"Can you do something about the bugs? I mean, they're not spiders, but still, bugs belong outside not inside!" James Firecat asked, swatting away at any of the glowing insects who seemed to be drifting in his direction.

Florence raised her hands and chanted a different spell. A moment later a powerful gust of wind blew past them. It caught up all the insects, carried them across the room, and slammed them into the far wall. There were numerous soft "splat" sounds as the insects were squished into tiny puddles of glistening (if cracked) shells and brightly colored fluids.

James flashed Florence a quick thumbs up in approval and made his way into the room. He was unable to locate any new traps or any great stores of treasures for them to take, but buried under a number of pillows and some carefully folded sheets he discovered a small black pouch.

Inside the pouch was neither perfectly crafted platinum, glistening gold, shinning silver, or even copper coins. Instead, when he reached his hand in, all he pulled out was half a dozen walnuts.

"Alex?" He asked the silver haired man, as if wondering what his eyes might see that the werecat's didn't.

"They're walnuts." The black clad man declared after a moment's study..

"Why would someone bother to hide walnuts so carefully?" Devi pondered.

"Leilani talked about how her people create exquisite meals for their fellow Arak from various plants. It is possible that those things are some kind delicacy." Florence suggested.

That was the best theory that any of them could think of for the moment.

"Should we try them ourselves in case they grant some kind of mystical power?" Cal pondered, as always more or less groping around in the dark when it came to what "rules" magic worked by.

"Not a chance." Alexander insisted straight away.

"I'll admit I don't know magic much better than you do, but I know stories. There's exactly one situation where eating food given, traded, or stolen, from the Fey ends up well for the mortal who does it.

That time is when the person is question happens to be suffering from a mortal wound, barely clinging to life, and in some stories it can still be a mistake even then. You see 'eat of these and you shall never die' doesn't mention anything about being healed. Instead, it leaves the knight who does it 'immortal' but still 'mortally' wounded with his guts torn out, laying there to suffer the pain of his wounds for centuries, never healing, never dying.

No, we'll just take these as a little more payback for the people of Briggdarrow, since whoever has a room this fine must be some well trusted servants of Loht's. We won't eat them though, not when we have plenty of more trustworthy food on hand." Alexander insisted.

Since there were no other great treasures to be found in this room, the group departed, though their spirits were still buoyed be their previous bonanza. Sharing smiles they headed up the staircase towards the roof.

They all could still recall Maeve's words about how she had hidden the Crown of Arak within the Palace's undying flame. Likewise, they had all been able to see the powerful pillar of fire rising from the palace's roof when they'd approached. If there was any place which would allow them "easy" access to the crown it was the roof.

So they trod upwards across stair after stair, each one exquisitely craved, though they were in little mood to appreciate the brilliance of the architecture. Ignoring various side passages that lead off the stairway (Alexander felt that the group had spent enough time randomly poking around the Malachite Palace and was certain their luck couldn't last forever) they ascended straight to the roof.

Like the rest of the palace it was crafted of gleaming black stone. Four gigantic spires rose up from the corners of the structure like the talons of a great beast, but they were hardly the roof's most impressive feature.

No, that honor easily went to the pillar of red fire rising out of a huge circular hole. It streamed into the darkness overhead, washing everything in a blood-red light. The heat from the inferno was so great that it seemed capable of scorching them even when they stood well clear of its licking flames.

"Huh, I guess if you wanted hide to something that couldn't be destroyed, that's a pretty good way to do it." Cal couldn't help but admit.

"Any ideas how we can get the crown?" Devi sighed as for the moment she clearly had none of her own.

"If you subtracted the entire 'constantly on fire' thing from the equation I could probably climb down and grab it. I can stand sunlight just fine, but real actual fire, especially magical fire, that stuff could easily burn me to a crisp..." Mirri pointed out.

"I can handle the fire, and I know how I can get the crown out." Florence insisted.

"Umm… how?" Cal asked, glad that someone besides him was going to handle this particular problem.

"To be perfectly honest, your little trick with the floating cork gave me the idea..." The dryad answered with a smile.

Then she muttered a quick spell upon herself before starting to climb up into the air, as easily if she was walking up an invisible flight of stairs. The dryad eventually rose high enough up into the sky that she was able to stand above the roaring flames without being consumed by their heat.

Then she began to chant and wave her hands about, but was too far away for any of them to clearly hear what she was saying. They were not too far away to see the results though, not even close.

A huge wave of water erupted from Florence's hands, and it shot downwards at a tremendous speed. There was an almost choking blast of steam as it slammed into the roaring magical fire. The water kept pushing, and even the fire could not restrain it.

Water began to shoot down one side of the huge open shaft that the fire had been shooting up only a few moments ago. The liquid pressed itself all the way down to the bottom of the shaft, and then proceed to curl around, inevitably starting climbing back up the other side of it.

As it did so, there was a small gleam of gold, just barely possible to see among the huge wave of blue. As the water came rushing up, Florence took a few steps to the side, and reached out her hands. With a single flick of her wrist, she managed to grab a golden crown out of the pillar of water.

The rush of water that she had summoned ceased, and soon still more steam began to fill the air, as the flame that it had managed to temporarily extinguish began to spring back to life.

The dryad meanwhile gently drifted down to the ground, landing back beside Alexander. In her left hand she now clutched a delicate looking knotwork of fine silver strands with a large black opal set in the front.

"As I suspected, if that fire wasn't able to melt it down, water wouldn't be able to crush it either." She pointed out proudly.

Then suddenly there was the sound of clapping.

It didn't come from any of the six adventurers, it came from the singlestaircase leading up to (or down from) the rooftop.

Ascending said stairs was a tall figure with pale skin and hair like fire. His broad smile was anything but friendly as he looked upon the six.

"A most marvelous piece of magic, too bad you won't be able to wield it in your defense now. I am Mohrg, Dancing Prince, Lord of the Muryan, and the Guardian of the Malachite Palace. You have served my master Loht well by recovering the Crown of Arak. If you will now kindly turn it over to me, you may be assured of a quick, honorable, and nearly painless death. If not..." He let the comment drift off without seeing any need to clarify.

"Oh great, you mean we did the thing where we rush to get the important mystical artifact just so that we can end up giving it to the villains? I really hate that..." Callan Wright groaned.

"You really expect us to turn over the crown and meekly accept death on your word alone?" Alexander shot back taking a step towards the Arak prince.

"I'm hardly alone, just as you have hardly gone unnoticed in your meandering..." Mohrg chuckled.

As he did so the group's shadows split apart, one half remained right where it was doing nothing at all out of the ordinary. The other half skittered across the rooftop, before bubbling upwards and transforming into the body of a tall thin pale skinned pointy eared elf like figure wielding a needle sharp rapier.

"Prince Loht lent me a few of his retainers, since this was a matter of such great importance to him. Not the sort of lads I'd trust to have my back in a fight… but they can kill well enough if they have to." The muryan pointed out playfully.

Given that they'd been able to hide as shadows, clearly these new Arak were sith rather than muryan, but a foe who loved death was hardly less dangerous than one who loved battle. Wolf Claw was still in it sheath, so were James' knives, while Phoenix was strapped to Cal's back, and Devi's flail curled innocently around her arm.

In short the situation was, somewhat less than ideal.

Before they could strike however, Alexander acted. He snatched the Crown of Arak from Florence's hands and twisted his wrist back, ready to toss it.

"Florence Bastien is one of the most powerful spell casters I have ever met anywhere in the Core, and that includes this land as well. You may know where the Crown is… but how quickly do you think you'll be able to get it back from those flames...?" Alexander inquired raising an eyebrow ominously.

"All I have to do is give the order and you'll be impaled in an instant." Mohrg scoffed.

"All I have to do is twist my wrist and the crown you want so badly is surrounded by a barrier of magical fire." The silver haired man shot back.

"Foolish mortals. You have no idea what time is to us. Loht will happily have the Brag take the entire Malachite Palace apart one brick at a time if is necessary to regain his father's crown!" Mohrg insisted.

"You say that, and yet you still haven't given the order to kill us yet..." Alexander taunted.

"Just because Loht is willing to spend centuries, even millenia getting the crown back, doesn't mean he wants to. His father has waited long enough. So, if you give me that crown now, I'll be especially generous and offer to actually let you live, so long as you leave this place and never return." The muryan explained.

"That's a very interesting offer." Alexander admitted.

"Wait you mean we're actually going to get to do things the easy way for once?" Cal gasped in surprise.

"Let's just say that I've found Mohrg's offer a rather illuminating, being allowed to live casts this entire situation in a brand new light." The silver haired man insisted, sounding completely calm and reasonable.

"Good, now just..." Mohrg began.

"Catch." Alexander interrupted him and then his wrist twisted.

The Crown of Arak flew straight up into the air, propelled by every ounce of strength Alexander could muster.

Seven pairs of Arak eyes couldn't help but follow the crown as it tumbled end over end upwards.

Florence Bastien dropped her staff and threw herself to the ground, words in Sylvan rushing from her lips at an incredibly fast rate.

James Firecat, Devi Skye, Alexander Diamondclaw, and Cal Wright did the same.

Mirri Catwarrior didn't.

She rushed straight at one of the Sith, her white gloved hands ready for battle.

A rapier flashed and punched through her body, but being already dead she barely even noticed. The Sith on the other hand noticed quite a bit when Mirri's rush knocked him off his feet and sent him rolling backwards.

In fact, he rolled right back into the wide open pit whose flames were now fully reignited.

The Arak barely even had time to scream.

The other five Sith rushed forward, ready to start stabbing away at the adventurers while they were in no position to defend themselves. Alexander rose up off the ground Wolf Claw in his hands, the only one of the five able to stand back up.

Cal Wright meanwhile was still laying on the ground, utterly and completely prone. Which was just a fancy way of saying that he was in more or less a perfect firing position.

Phoenix slid into place against his shoulder, and he sighted it in.

CRACK!

The bullet punched through a sith's forehead and his body evaporate away into nothing before it could even hit the ground.

James Firecat's knives slid into his hands and he just barely manged to roll to the side, then deflect a rapier thrust with his own blades.

Devi's flail lashed out and wrapped around the rapier along with the arm wielding it. She yanked hard and pulled the Sith in close to her, the rapier slipping away.

Devi Skye and Arak lay on top of one another, and began to battle in the most primitive way possible. There was no room for style, grace, or elegance, only brutality rage and fury. Devi Skye tried to break the Arak's fingers, bite at his ears, and jam her kneecaps into his kidneys.

The sith tried to fight back, tried to execute careful exquisite maneuvers, but by the time he was halfway through one of them Devi had already landed her own more pedestrian strikes, making sure to throw in a quick headbutt just further confuse her opponent.

"Don't try to hurt my pack..." Alexander declared as he casually decapitated a sith.

"Don't try to hurt my Kitten either!" Mirri declared as she grabbed the neck of the Arak who had been attacking James only a moment ago, and wrenched it so far around he could "look her in the eye" for a moment before his body faded away.

James repaid the favor by planting a knife in the head of another sith just as he'd been trying to sneak up behind Mirri.

There was an ugly squishing sound as Devi drove her thumbs into her foe's eyes and proceed to pummel him till he lay still.

Alexander sheathed Wolf Claw and held out his hands, just in time for the Crown of Arak to finally bleed off its momentum and fall neatly into them.

"Missing something?" Scoffed Mohrg.

While the group had been busy defending themselves from the sith, the muryan hadn't even bothered to draw either of his two blades. Instead, he'd danced into the chaos that Alexander had created and grabbed Florence Bastien.

He now held the dryad with one arm wrapped tightly about both of her limbs and the other firmly fixed over her mouth.

"Pretty hard to cast magic spells when you can't speak or do fancy had gestures isn't it love?" He cooed in Florence's ear.

As he spoke he dragged her closer and closer to the huge pillar of fire, a cold smile on his face.

"Can you burn love… I bet you can..." He mocked her, thinking that the Dryad would suffer from the excess heat even worse than he would.

"STOP!" Alexander growled as he took a step toward Mohrg.

"You stop!" Mohrg growled right back.

"Swear that you'll leave and give me the crown and I'll let you have her, anything else and I'll…." He began.

He never quite got a chance to finish.

Mohrg was stronger than Florence, but at the moment he was using only one arm to roughly restrain both of the dryad's.

That was enough to keep her from making any complicated gestures. It wasn't enough to keep her from twisting a hand so that it pointed more or less directly at her captor's head.

A beam of brilliant white light shot forth from her palm and slammed into Mohrg's skull evaporating flesh and bleaching the bones beneath.

The muryan prince staggered backwards, and Florence easily slipped free from his grip, spinning around to face him.

"Yes it is hard to cast spells. It isn't hard to use spells I've already cast though." Florence pointed out before blasting Mohrg with another beam of concentrated sunlight.

By the time she decided to throw in a third one for good measure there wasn't anything left of his body.

"You were too gentle to him." Alexander snarled.

Florence blinked then threw back her head and laughed.

"I never imagined you tell me I was being too gentle to an Arak!" She pointed out, amused by the absurdity of their situation.

That was when the air began to fill with the sound of singing. Clearly while Mohrg might have been the leader of the muryan present, he wasn't the only one.

Now that Mohrg had sprung his ambush (even though it had failed) there were plenty of others who wanted a turn. The group would have to fight through who knew how many mores Arak if they were going to escape. At least they would need to if they planned to play fair.

Alexander Diamondclaw didn't like to play fair.

"Still got enough magic to help us fly?" Alexander pressed, adjusting his eye patch so that it would cover his right eye once again.

"Shouldn't be a problem, get in a circle and hold onto me tight." Florence insisted.

The group did, and she cast another spell. A moment later, a group of muryan warriors burst onto the roof of the Malachite Palace, their blades already drawn.

They were greeted by an utterly empty rooftop as half a dozen different wisps of smoke drifted bast them and shot out across the sunless sky.

End Chapter

AN: The fancy room that they break into is actually Loht's. There's a hidden trap to it to, among all the fancy insects 99.9% of which are completely harmless, there is one whose sting will impart a weird disease that first causes your shadow then your entire body to fade away. Luckily it is no more resilient than any of the other bugs and Florence's wind spell made it go squish. Arachnophobia/Entomophobia, you say mental disorder, James Firecat says you can't be paranoid if the spiders and bugs really are out to get you!

Likewise, as you might have possibly guessed the fancy walnuts were actually a gift from a powrie for him to use on his foes and a highly poisonous. Fey food, for those who have grown tired of living.

The sunbeam spell is an interesting thing. It's a little sub optimal in some (maybe even a lot) of ways, because it requires a standard action to cast and doesn't actually do anything when it's cast in and of itself. What it does is give you the option of taking another standard action to emit a beam (60 feet ray) of dazzling light from your hands which does 4D6 damage plus blind, reflex save for half damage and ignore the blind effect. Anything to which sunlight is unnatural or harmful (Arak unquestionably included) takes double damage combined with any damage being out in the sun itself may deal to them. Undead, fungi, mold and oozes (the later three because of the UV properties of the magic light) are going to enjoy the discovery that it's a save or die effect instead with a reflex save meaning they only take half caster level D6 (max 20 before being halved) damage.

You can emit one beam per every three caster levels, max 6 at level 18. The spell only lasts one round per level, so it's not really something you can cast on yourself before combat unless you know that you're going to be provoking a fight and start it exactly at the moment you want, in which case odds are you've probably already won.

The spell itself has verbal and semantic components, but as Mohrg discovered… once the spell is cast, the beams of light themselves don't. So whatever else you can say about sunbeam, the fact that you get to use it multiple times per casting means that you can get quite a lot of use out of it which is why it's a natural fit for Florence's fighting style, nature all wins in the end, why be concerned about how long it takes?

Also I try to keep Florence to around 15th level, but she's clearly been earning some XP since she just let loose with the level 9 spell Tsunami, a neat little spell for carving out a nice sized chunk of an army, or wipe out the entire thing if they're trying to cross a relatively narrow bridge. It creates a wall of water 20 feet (40 if you're at sea) by your caster level wide. Anyone struck by it takes caster level D6 damage, with fortitude save for half.

Then if they aren't gargantuan size or larger, they get no save to resist being picked up and dragged along by the water. So long as they're being dragged along each turn they take that D6 per caster level all over again. The only way to stop taking this damage is to make a DC 20 swim check or wait it out, in which case you should be aware it will last for one round per caster level.

Level 9 spells, when save or die becomes die or die more slowly.


	11. Chapter 11

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust…

Chapter Eleven: In the dark I dash.

The Teg were hunters of the Arak, beings who had devoted century upon century of their lives to that one single task. Some Arak claimed that it took their minds to funny places, making them behave more like the animals they often transformed into than proper civilized beings. What no one doubted was their skill or their loyalty to the Unsellie Court and its leader Prince Loht.

Yet even these great hunters were for the moment utterly unaware as the group passed them by.

Swirling vaguely humanoid figures who left behind neither scent trail nor footprints rocketed across the Shadow Rift. Moving faster than the swiftest horse, they soared ever onward towards the Obsidian Gate where the Crown of Arak had to be disposed of.

Only when Florence Bastien's spell began to approach the limits of its power did the half a dozen misty figures slowly descend down toward the ground. There was a soft "FWHIP" sound as the vaporous shadows began to transform back into beings of flesh and bone once more.

"You know, the fact that some people can cast magic really takes a lot of the fun out of being a vampire." Mirri huffed in irritation at the Dryad's mystical skill.

"I mean, it is not enough that you can do what I can through magic, but you can do it better also!" She added, stomping her feet in the ground.

It was all to the good that Florence had been practicing and improving her magical abilities, because sometimes Mirri needed them just as much as the others. Though she was capable of transforming herself into a cloud of mist (it was one of the most well known vampiric abilities after all) it did not grant her anything approaching the speed Florence's magical transformation did.

Looking around where they had ended up the group saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Nothing out of the ordinary for the Shadow Rift at least.

"We should probably make camp here for the night." Alexander suggested.

"Finally noticed how much of my magic I've used?" Florence suggested a touch smugly.

Indeed although the dryad was a powerful mage, just like every other spell caster she would still eventually exhaust her energy if forced to use her powers again and again and again without rest.

"Not to mention the rest of us are conventionally tired. I don't know how exactly it tires you out to fly when you don't even have a body to get tired in the first place, but it does." Cal muttered.

Devi reached into her bag of holding and began to pull out a great many rocks. She laid them out in a simple circular pattern upon the ground, creating a firebreak for the coming campfire.

Next out came some of the surplus of deadwood that she had discovered in her bag of holding after their long "unknown" journey through the land between the Core and the Shadow Rift proper. James searched his jacket for flint and steel, ready to call forth sparks once the kindling had been laid out. Mirri reached around Devi in order to get at her bag of holding herself.

From the small brown bag she was able to extract a black coffin several times its size. Glistening in golden thread upon the top of it was an inscription "Rør ikke katten uden en handske" words that never failed to bring a smile to her face.

Once she was done Cal reached into the bag in order to pull out some stale bread. Next out was a canteen, some of which he emptied onto the bread to make it a bit softer to the tooth. Then there was some salted meat to further expand the meal.

What he was proudest of however was a pair of pots. The group had first found them in Nova Vaasa, where they'd been used in order to allow a pair of housecats to survive the passage of countless years in a mystical stasis.

Said cats had been handed over to Tristen Hiregaard and now happily hunted about the grounds of Castle Faerhaaven while the pots allowed the group to have access to a stock of fresh fruits and vegetables as they traveled.

Food was passed around (Florence eating especially heartily to make up for the lack of sunlight), though James and Mirri abstained.

James had made sure to quickly consume one of his captured rats back on the Malachite Palace's roof, since Florence's spell hadn't been able to bring them along. Having lost his collection of fresh meat the werecat knew that soon enough he'd need to worry about acquiring more of it.

Soon enough, but not right now, right now he enjoyed simply basking in the warmth of the campfire with his companions.

As for Mirri, her own nourishment would be at hand (or at fang) soon enough. Yet even as the fire crackled, it did not seem as bright or as warm as it should have. In the shadows cast by the flickering flames it felt as if there surely must be someone or something watching them, though there was no sound, scent or sight of any such foe.

Alexander even went so far as to momentarily remove his eye patch and let his right eye have a good long look around, just to be sure of that fact.

Returning it to its normal resting place he decided that if they were going to have any reprieve from the creeping paranoia they'd have to fight for it.

"James, why don't you play that I love song I taught you?" Alexander suggested, feeling that a little familiar music could hardly make things worse.

James Firecat quickly produced his harmonica from a jacket pocket and pressed it to his lips. He blew into it, and as before more music than any one instrument had any right to produce came out. It even continued to come out when he withdrew his lips from it and began to sing.

"Once a fair and hansom wolflord

traveled to a magic grove..."

The song had scarcely begun and already Florence Bastien none too gently drove an elbow into Alexander's midsection as they sat side by side.

"'Fair and hansom' was he?" She scoffed.

"Barely dressed in anything at all with wild long hair, I understand some women find that sort of thing attractive." He replied stoically.

"I find it more attractive after a bath. Especially since it they tend to drive flees away..." Florence insisted.

Completely oblivious to (or at least completely ignoring) their bickering James had continued along with the song.

"Seeking out its great protector

To forge bonds with her he strove

I am a hunter splendid

From lands far away you see  
But I will not return to them  
lest you come along with me." James sang, before none too gently shifting his pitch up several octaves suggesting his was about recite the feminine part of a duet.

"Lord you haven't an equal

None can constrain where you roam

But for us love will not bloom

Death waits should I leave my home.

Magic binds me to this place

If I were to try and flee

Half a mile in any direction

It would be the end of me." The werecat continued and sure enough weather there was magic or simple familiarity in the music the group's felt the spirits start to rise.

"Dryad long have I sought you,

I would have you for my mate.

I will not hunt again then,

If such is to be my fate.

Each night I'll lay beside you,

Be chained and never free,

Let my teeth grow weak and dull,

It is no great loss to me." As James sung Alexander softly echoed the words in Florence's ears, leaning closer to her.

Mirri showing some pity for James' efforts at singing which for all his enthusiasm never produced very impressive results pitched in to help cover the chorus.

"Dae dae dae da da dae dae dae da da dae dae da da dae dae..." The vampire chanted rhythmically before James began the next verse.

"Lord I cannot go and wed thee

Just to watch your spirit die.

Since I will not be your shackles

I have a plan for us to try,

Let us speak with my great mother

For there is no wiser tree.

She may know some trick or treasures

That I can show my love for thee." James sang and Florence whispered back.

"So they've gone to her great mother

and she listens to their plea.

To inquire how a dryad

Could be wed to her wolfy..." The werecat continued on, while Florence tenderly cuffed Alexander for his cavalier approach to rhyming verse in the Balok language.

"For the wolflord's wide wild kingdom

Would surely rob her of her breath

To ignore that which binds her here

It would surely be her death.

Lord I might know how to aid you,

If my dryad you adore.

But from a wolf such agape

Has ne're been seen before!

There is a magic ritual

Through which you might make her free.

If you are both decided

You must break her bond with me…." James sang his voice growing (or at least trying to become) solemn and reverent.

"Dae dae dae da da dae dae da da dae dae dae da da dae dae..." Mirri chanted once again, her beautiful voice making the simple syllables seem mystical and profound.

"So they wait for the magic hour

The dryad already feels weak

As the great wolflord prepares

To grant the freedom they seek

At the rising of the full moon

Underneath that mighty oak

He starts the mystic ritual

Of which the tree itself spoke

Just before the stroke of midnight

His claws tear the ancient tree

Ripping a ring clean round its bark

She knows it'll cost her dearly

The price it must be paid now

The dryad falls to her knees.

No fear or pain my lady

You can draw your strength from me…." As James continued to sing Alexander began to run a his tongue along the length of Florence's right ear.

"Dae dae dae da da dae dae da da dae dae dae da da dae dae…." Mirri repeated the refrain before taking a moment to lean in and run her own tongue along James' throat.

To the werecat's credit, he didn't let this distraction delay him from beginning the final verse.

"Slowly she gets to her own feet

And sees her bond tree's girdle

Yet magic and life remained

Love's soil has proven fertile..." Florence smacked Alexander again for that one, harder than the last time.

It'd been a while since she'd heard the lyrics to this song and forgotten just how much effort he'd put into manipulating the language to suit his rhymes instead of the other way around.

"This strange new power takes her

She can feel its pain's first pangs

Hands and feet become mighty paws

And blunt teeth now turn to fangs

Her spine it twists and changes

But his love still plain to see.

Remade by dedication.

He has proved his loyalty.

They strike out from the forest

Running wild, finally free

Bound in only their devotion

A fair wolf bride for him she'll be." James finished.

"Dae dae dae da da dae dae da da dae dae dae da da dae dae…." Mirri repeated the refrain, though some of the "words" got rather obscured and she leaned her head underneath James' neck and began to apply love bites.

Thus followed a brief period of necking between all of the couples present.

When it finally passed Devi Skye was the first one to speak up.

"You should play the love song I taught you James." The blue haired elf insisted.

Always eager to have an audience to play (and sing) for James got down to it almost at once.

While the beat of Alexander's love song had been fast and wild, Devi's was much more slow and sedate.

"Oh, I couldn't live a single day without you,  
Actually, on second thought, well, I suppose I could.  
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, honey, you're the greatest  
Well, at any rate, I guess you're...pretty good." He sang, seemingly oblivious to the somewhat backhanded nature of the compliments he was musically delivering.

Devi Skye leaned in close to Cal Wright and began to whisper into his ear.

"I give you another four decades at best." She somehow managed to coo playfully.

"Don't say that..." Cal whispered back.

"Since when do you object to unbiased facts?" Devi teased him.

"You're not going to get to take advantage of the fact that you've got a considerably longer than lifespan than I do. Boss is going to get us both killed before then..." Cal insisted.=

"You say the most romantic things Beta." Alexander Diamondclaw whispered into Cal's other ear, having heard his words and leaned over himself.

As the song continued on its way, every member of the group began to relax and enjoyed the calm music of James' harmonica.

Most of the night passed that way, with the five requesting a few more songs before they started turning in while one pair stayed awake to keep watch for rotating shifts.

XXX XXX XXX

Eventually the "night" (if such was the right word for the period of time when there was no sun or moon) passed and the group set about making and consuming breakfast.

As they did so James (who still had no need for traditional meals) instead focused simply on playing another upbeat tune for the group. They were thus in good spirits when they set out.

The six made it less than a hundred paces before things took a turn for the unexpected.

Without any sort of warning the ground heaved to one side and dropped out from under the group. The wind was instantly muffled, and a wall of jagged stone seemed to rise up surrounding them.

In mere seconds, the adventurers found themselves standing at the center of a fifty foot circle ringed by a twenty foot high stone rampart. It was difficult not to notice the similarities between this place and a gladiatorial arena.

Almost instantly Devi's flail was untwisted from around her arm and a snarl came to her face. Phoenix slid into Cal's hands a bit more slowly as he scanned the strange 'trap' for any sort of an actual threat, with the others doing likewise.

As they began to examine the rough surface of the wall more closely they noticed that the swirls and patterns in the stone almost resembled sleeping faces. Looking closer still, it was possible to see that this was no coincidence; the wall boasted several such countenances.

Before they could make sense of this strange fact, their eyes opened, and stern, accusing gazes fixed themselves upon the group.

"Ohh this is bad." Cal muttered.

He was tempted to squeeze off a shot, but on the other hand, Phoenix while the most splendid firearm he had ever seen or heard of, was made for dealing with foes of flesh and blood. Even if he decided to load it with some of his magic bullets, he doubted they would be able to do serious damage to a foe made entirely of stone.

The next unpleasant surprise was how the surface of the wall began to ripple like water. One by one, the faces began to protrude, becoming three dimensional figures instead of mere images.

Then, one after another, more than a score of short figures actually stepped out of the wall to stand in a ring around the group. The small beings looked very much like slender almost emaciated dwarfs, except without any trace of a beard, and of course being made of rock.

Their features were strangely round and flat, their tawny skin and chestnut hair blending perfectly with their simple leather tunics and trousers. Each of these mysterious creatures held a heavy pickaxe. Though they were not yet raised to strike, there could be no doubt of how effective they would inevitably prove to be in battle.

"Oh this is worse..." The alchemist unnecessarily clarified.

Alexander stared closely at the new creatures. He had not seen their like ever before… but by the same token this suggested that they were not Arak.

For a certainty their skin completely lacked the customary paleness to be found among most of Maeve and Loht's people. He held out his hands in front of him palms up, well away from Wolf Claw.

"Can you understand me?" He called out to them in Balok.

"Well enough." One of them called back in strangely accented Darkonese.

"What are you trying to do here?" He asked, being careful to keep his tone polite and completely lacking any trace of threat or aggression.

"Trying to discover the exact same thing about you." The one who was evidently their leader answered.

The silver haired man no way of knowing for certain if these strange creatures were native to the Shadow Rift or simply visitors. The odds seemed good however that they must have been here for far longer than Alexander and his six companions.

"We were only passing through..." Alexander explained, taking a moment to twist his wrist slightly and show off Maeve's black stone ring.

It didn't quite have the desired effect.

"Where did you get that?" The leader demanded, hand twitching for his pickaxe.

"Lady Maeve, Princess of the Shee, ruler of the Seelie Court gave it to me so that I could prove to others that I was acting in her service." Alexander admitted.

Given that the situation was extremely tense but not actually violent, it struck him as one of the rare times when the complete utter and absolute truth was probably the best policy. The shaking hands went still.

"So you're enemies of Loht then?" The leader probed.

"Well, I'd be perfectly happy to go out for a picnic with him… so long as it is on a bright sunny day." Alexander insisted with a predatory grin.

"We are the erdulitle and I am Jaiya. Prince Loht drove us form our native homeland and any foe of his is a friend of ours. Likewise, only the intervention of his sister the White Lady prevented him from trying to finish the job." The erdulitle explained.

"The dastard must have forced them into such a frantic flight that they needed to leave almost all their consonants behind." Cal speculated, earning him a swift blow to the midsection from Devi.

"As much as I'd like to contemplate the possibility of dragging Loht all the way back to the surface, we sadly have even more important matters to attend to. We need to get to the Obsidian Gate as swiftly as possible." Alexander explained.

"You won't be able to do one without having at least some opportunity at the other. Prince Loht has been camped out at the Obsidian Gate for over a month now. He's also brought a huge force of saugh with him..." Jaiya warned his newest 'friend' by way of a shared adversary.

"A force of 'saugh'?" Alexander repeated the word, not having heard it before.

"Dead men, or whatever is left of them. Those death worshiping bastards love the undead, probably because they never talk back to them." The erdulitle's leader further explained.

"We're good, but not quite good enough to take on an entire army by ourselves. I don't suppose you have any ideas about how we might get around them?" The silver haired man pressed.

"I might at that… I just might." Jaiya chuckled to himself.

End Chapter.

AN: Hey folks it's time for me lay down more back story that I've only just thought of but hopefully I can slip in without making it too obvious… except for the part where I tell you I'm slipping it in.

Anyway!

In D&D Dryad's are supposed to have a particular tree that need to stay within 300 feet of or else they inevitably sicken and die, and if anything horrible happens to said they also inevitably sicken and die.

Florence doesn't follow that particular rule. Back in Book 1 it was a necessarily aberration from the rules that I'm roughly trying to have govern the universe in which these stories take place, much like Cal having had the half a dozen different breakthroughs necessary to go from rifled muskets to breech loaders.

Now however, I'm going to present you with two equally "plausible" alternatives for you folks to think about if you find interesting.

1: Whatever weirdness is going on with Alex's right eye (and said weirdness I have planned since before the first chapter of Book 1 was written, don't worry, I'm serious, this one I have set in stone and it isn't going to change, you'll get to find out eventually I promise) it generates so much excess mystical energy (which Alex can't channel in any way besides wolf related transformations) that Florence can draw from it and use it in place of connection to the tree with which she was originally bonded.

2: In Ravenloft in general, if a Dryad and a mortal fall deeply in love with another it's possible for the mortal to commit a ritual which replaces the mystical energies of the previously mentioned bond with the equally ephemeral bond of true love that exists between the two of them. That may sound a bit silly, but having said it, I feel like it's an interesting option that opens up lots of options for gothic horror.

The ritual involves "girdling" the bond tree, also known cutting a thick ring in its bark. Due to the way that trees work, this is a surefire way to kill a tree, even if the ring is only an inch or two deep, the tree will never again be able to pass water above the cut the section, and it will never recover. The tree will die right where it is root slowly, surely.

Of course the caveat here is that if the love isn't pure or one of them goes back on it later, the dryad will also inevitably die.

Said death can either be played for tragedy, or for horror, with the dryad dying but becoming a Waff/some other suitable undead menace (since a Waff would be pretty easy to get rid of since you by default already know what tree you need to destroy to defeat it come sunrise) which now only exists to try and turn the one who deceived it into so much mulch and fertilizer.

Either of the two explanations above also neatly handle the issue of why of Florence looks as "human" as Mirri does more or less, while Dryad's are normally depicted as being roughly human shaped, but more like plant creatures than green skinned space babes, because she draws mystical energy from Alex (either his eye or his love) her default shape is more human and less tree than that of most dryads.

Also those of you in back who are about to tell me that "Twuo love" managing to bridge what should be an impossible divide is completely out of tone in Ravenloft, can sit down review some of the published material. The Van Richten Arsenal Book established the "Smitten" feat, which talks about how True Fairytale Storybook Love between two mortal beings can be such a powerful force that it gives you a +1 moral boost to attacks and saving throws so long as you're near the one you love, and it'll even jumps to +2 if they're in danger. True Love exists in Ravenloft, and it has power.

Can you tell that I've been listening to "The Maiden and the Selkie" by Heather Alexander a lot recently? If you didn't, well now you do.

Alex's "Love" Song" is like most things Alex says (though not most thing he tells to the group) by no means "true" for the most conventional interpretation of the term.

The song posits a sort of fairytale storybook "love at first sight" which if you've been keeping up with the side stories should be able to guess was not really the case between Alex and Florence.

Alex had a lot of issues he needed to work out when he first met Florence (at that point he was so broken he couldn't even love himself, let alone someone else), and she wasn't exactly an "innocent" (by the Ravenloft definition of the term) even back then.

Alex was however if not in true love with Florence from day one… he might have be said to have been in "true loyalty" (more "storge" style love than "agape" and certainly not "eros" to us the Greek terms) with her less than 24 hours after their first meeting, even though they drove each other up and down several walls over their early time together.

That said, the song does capture the essential truth of how the two of them came from very different worlds and Florence needed to cross over into Alex's for them to have any chance of being together. Also the song as written technically only has three verses, but I added a fourth because I wanted to play out the magic ritual and transformation in a little more detail.

By comparison, Devi's love song is the first verse (and presumably the rest of) "Good Enough for Now" by Weird Al, in their case it serves as a soaring love song on the subject of how Devi has a lifespan roughly seven times as long as Cal's and she takes a very open an honest approach to the fact. She fully plans to outlive him and will probably fall in love/lust/affection with somebody else given enough time after his death by old age. But hey, "You're not perfect, but I love you anyhow" sums up Cal Wright pretty darn well all things considered.

I'm going to review and repost this chapter again tomorrow but want to throw this version of it up tonight because it's been delayed long enough.

Will try and have the next chapter up sometime next week, it is gonna be a real doozy, trust me!


	12. Chapter 12

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust.

Final Chapter: Who are you fool nothing who dares to tell me nay?

"So you're sure this tunnel will take us where we need to go?" Callan Wright couldn't help but ask Jaiya.

"Are you suggesting that you know the stones of this land better than I do?" The erdulitle responding, in much the same affronted tones that Cal might used if someone had claimed to be better at alchemy than him.

"Okay, fair enough, are you sure we need to use them then?" Cal added, clarifying his concerns slightly.

After Alexander had managed to make peace with the strange folk, the group had been forced to strike out through one of their tunnels. Moving through the Shadow Rift's strange landscape was unnerving, but you could become used to it over time, and even if there was no sun, at least there was still a sky.

Down here in the tunnels there was no sun, no sky, one might even say "no nothing" given that "nothing" tended to imply vast emptiness. Instead, the group was forced to march single file through a tunnel so small that Alexander was forced to crouch for fear of bumping his had on the ceiling.

"You can wander through the Black Marshes which are currently overflowing with saugh, then climb the Darkenheights upon the top of whose rocky cliffs Loht has encamped a small army of muryan to ensure his privacy, or you can take this tunnel." Jaiya pointedly offered.

Cal didn't need to think too long about his options for very long.

"At least there isn't much danger of us getting lost..." The alchemist reflected awkwardly.

"Are you sure you won't be able to offer us any support once we actually reach our destination?" Alexander pressed the erdulitle's leader.

Jaiya had be willing to take them the Obsidian Gate's doorstep, but so far had refused any to offer them any help beyond that.

"Not a chance. Right now as far as the Shadow Prince knows he drove us completely from these lands centuries ago. If he has reason to suspect we're still around though..." Jaiya explained, shuddering slightly.

"If everything goes as planned Loht will be dead, and with you along to help it'll be all the more likely." Alexander countered.

"You're absolutely certain that you can kill the Prince of Shadows for good down here? Besides, even if you did, he has a number of retainers who would all too happy to carry on his pogrom the moment they got the chance. We may both want to throw a wrench in whatever Loht is planning right now, but we have to live here and you don't..." Jaiya huffed gruffly.

For a brief moment Alexander contemplated telling the erdulitle chieftain about the being which dwelled inside the Obsidian Gate that Loht was threatening to let loose. He thought about it, and then decided against it, the erdulitle were not Arak, they would have not have experienced that horror firsthand, and so would probably not believe it. Best to accept help he was going to be given, rather than risk making his current ally think him a lunatic.

"Can we count on using your tunnels again after all is said and done? Climbing down a mountain guarded by muryan and wading through a marsh filled with saugh isn't much more pleasant than climbing up a mountain and so on and so forth." Devi Skye cut in.

"If you can deal with the Prince of Shadows, at least for a while then we'll be here to help you get back to safety. Don't worry about how, we'll be able to find you if actually pull it off." Jaiya offered, his tone softening slightly.

That brief bout of conversation over and done with the group went back to their silent trekking. The tunnel curved upwards slightly as they began to make their way past (under?) the Darkenheights.

Canteens filled with water and brief mouthfuls of food were taken from Devi's bag of holding and passed back and forth. In such cramped conditions there was no desire to stop and eat a proper meal, that would have to wait until they'd reached the end of the tunnel.

So they trod ever onward, making their way through that dreadfully compact corridor, where if their surroundings changed at it was too dark to tell. Devi's lantern gave them enough light to proceed by and no more.

Eventually the harrowing journey came to an end as Jaiya announced that they had reached their destination.

"It's all up from here..." The erdulitle reflected before slamming his hands through a thin layer of dirt to create a hole for them to climb out of.

"Which way is it to the Obsidian Gate from here?" Cal wondered, glad to get his had above ground again.

Jaiya popped his head out of the hole just long enough to point a single finger.

Following it they all saw a truly massive black sphere that seemed to utterly and completely consume any and all light that came near it.

"Oh yeah, that would do it." The alchemist admitted.

Once the six had all climbed out Jaiya retreated back below the surface and the ground began to move and churn so as to completely and utterly obliterate any trace that he had been there.

"Well there's nothing to it but to do it. Lets all hold hands and let me know if any of you start to feel like you're fading away..." Alexander warned them before taking Florence and James' hands.

A moment later James grabbed hold of Mirri, who grabbed hold of Devi who grabbed hold of Cal who decided not to grab hold of Alexander less they all have to walk around in an especially awkward circle.

Soon they were swallowed completely by the darkness, and had only the sound of their own footfalls to keep them company. None the less they pressed on all the same, hoping they'd make it through to the other side before they started to fade away, or walked off a cliff.

As they passed through the seemingly impenetrable darkness they came upon the Obsidian Gate proper. A sheet of slippery black glass made up the floor of a mysterious structure they found themselves inside of, like a huge arena. Looming before them was a some sort of tower made ascendable only by a huge spiral staircase looping around it, above which floated a huge sphere of solid darkness.

A single glance was all any of them needed to be sure that the strange sphere was the Obsidian Gate itself.

Standing on top of the tower were a great many Arak, one of which Mirri recognized at instantly, even though his features were somewhat distorted by a golden globe which surrounded him. He was the only Arak she'd ever seen who was completely bald. It seemed that Loht hadn't quite fully recovered from his punishment at the hands of Tristessa…

In addition to his magical protections he also had two score of Muryan bodyguards. No sooner did they catch sight of Loht than Loht caught sight of them, and the more eagle eyed members of the group could see a wide smile fill his face.

"Wonderful the final piece of my father's regalia has finally arrived! You lee-due fools didn't know just how much the pieces long to be together do you?" He mocked them.

Sure enough even as he spoke all of a sudden the Crown of Arak levitated itself out of Devi's bag of holding. The elf made a desperate grab for it, but it just barely managed to slip past her fingers and shoot off towards Loht.

"Oh f*&k we're still doing the thing where we do all the hard work and end up bringing the villain his magical item!" The alchemist moaned as he quickly raised Phoenix and fired.

Alas the bullet pinged pointlessly off of the golden sphere surrounding his target, which the crown somehow managed to pass straight through into his waiting hands. Loht placed the Crown of Arak atop his head and raised his hands up towards the Obsidian Sphere above him in exultation.

"Come, Arak! Come, Earlking! Come, Father! Your son awaits you!" Cried out Loht imploring to the Obsidian Gate

Behind the prince a small circle of radiance began to spread across the ebon surface of the black sphere. There was something in there… but it wasn't an Arak… in fact it was impossible to say exactly what it was, other than that it was huge and… wrong….

Suddenly a monstrous gray tentacle snaked out of the circle of glowing light and wrapped around Loht (his golden sphere of protection vanishing the moment the tentacle came near), yanking him up into the air. A deep menacing voice began to emanate from the Obsidian Gate.

"YOUR HELP IS MUCH APPRECIATED PUPPET! HERE IS THE REWARD YOU SO JUSTLY DESERVE!" It boomed out.

Alexander barely had time to peel off his eye-patch and toss it aside in preparation for whatever horrible things were about to come next, before the serpentine limb squeezed its captive Arak prince so tightly that it was impossible not to hear the sound of breaking bones.

Loht screamed pain and lashed out with the Sword of Arak, managing to slice open a deep cut into the serpentine limb. In response it twisted and tossed Loht away hurling him to the far end of the arena.

The entire gate seemed to shudder as the tentacle momentarily retreated back into the glowing circle it had emerged from. That sight brought little relief to the group's hearts though, not when even as it happened that same voice spoke out again.

"PAPER CUTS! NOTHING BUT A PAPER CUT! YOU WILL LIVE, BUT ONLY BECAUSE YOU HAVE SO DILIGENTLY SERVED ME FOOLISH PUPPET! COME TO ME MY TRUE SERVANTS, DEATH HAS PURIFIED YOU OF THE BURDEN OF DOUBT AND PAIN! DEATH HAS SHOWN YOU MY UNSTOPPABLE GLORY!" As the voice rang out figures began to emerged from the far end of the arena.

Some of them glided and floated above the ground, their bodies insubstantial as mist. Still others marched forward, and among these some had flesh while others were nothing more than animated bones. Alexander's first guess as to their number was "way, way too many" but his second was northwards of a five hundred.

The undead monsters pressed shoulder to shoulder against one another forming ranks before Loht (several of them treading upon him in the process) before starting to advance. Clearly this was the army of "saugh" that Loht had created, and just as clearly it was no longer his to command.

As if further proof of just how doomed they were was needed, as the gateway began to grow wider Mirri fell to her knees.

"No, no, no, not like this! He's in my head, he's in my body, he's everywhere! Get out, get out!" The vampire scratched frantically at her own face in horror, ripping apart her own skin in blind panic. Her voice then became an anguished shriek, reduced to chanting words without meaning.

"Tekeli-li, Tekeli-li!" She screamed before collapsing upon the ground, her arms flailing about wildly, her legs kicking at nothing.

With Loht dealt with the malevolent presence that had now been freed turned its attention upon the adventures, finding them quite the curiosity.

"WHAT IS THIS? ONE OF THE SYLVAN FOLK IN MY NEW KINGDOM WHO HAS NOT BEEN REMADE IN MY GLORIOUS IMAGE? THIS WILL NEVER DO!" That ominous voice boomed out as if being projected through a thousand trumpets.

It spoke with such great volume that the sound alone brought pain to one's ears. A cloud of inky darkness shot out of the Obsidian Gate and sailed through the air, moving with all the speed of a flickering shadow. Before any of them could possibly stop it, the black blob struck.

It slammed into Florence Bastien and surrounded her completley, making it impossible to see her within the depths of that horrific darkness.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Alexander roared back at the being that dwelled within the Obsidian Gate, though even his mighty voice seemed a soft gentle whisper next to that of the strange entity.

"YOU ARE MORTAL." It was not a question, it was a statement.

"I HAVE NO INTEREST IN SERVANTS WHO WILL ONLY BE ABLE TO OBEY ME FOR THE BLINK OF EYE. BUT NONE WILL BE ALLOWED TO OPENLY OPPOSE ME. KNEEL!" The mighty voice demanded of Alexander.

The silver haired man felt his legs go weak for a moment as a mystical assault lashed against his mind.

It smashed through his conscious mind like a tidal wave, rolling over every effort he made to resist it, before he knew what he was doing. his knees began to bend.

The magical energies wormed their ways into Alexander Diamondclaw's inner mind, what human could possibly stand against such a powerful command?

Alexander's Diamondclaw's mind was not just human though… as the compulsion tried to seize full control, suddenly deep within his mind roaring defiance back at the invading presence was a wolf.

A wolf so great that when it yawned its upper jaw would touch the clouds while its lower rested upon the ground.

To such a magnificent beast a tidal wave did not even reach halfway up its legs.

Alexander's knees straightened and his mismatched eyes both themselves firmly upon the middle of the Obsidian Gate.

"You call yourself a god? I suppose it's only fair… for what being in this or any world that is more duplicitous and detestable than a god? All the more reason why I will fight you to my last breath! Death before submission, I will NEVER bare my throat to you!" Alexander promised to his indescribable foe.

Then he shoved his left arm into the shadows that surrounded Florence up to the shoulder. He could not see, but he could still feel. Her grasping hands seized hold of his wrist and he tugged.

"Every twilight inevitably gives way to the dawn." Florence Bastien's voice rang out as Alexander pulled her free from the orb of darkness, her body unaffected by the experience.

"NOT THIS 'TWILIGHT' I AM ETERNAL, I AM GWYDION!" Thus did Alexander and his companions finally know the name of this monster, much good it did them.

A moment later another blob of inky darkness shot out, and like before it managed to more or less completely surround Florence.

"You want me to change? You want to see me transform?" The dryad's voice called out from within the onyx sphere she'd been sealed in.

"I am no delicate flower… I am no resolute tree… I am no tender gardener… I am no kind sheppard..." Her voice declared calmly.

Sharp wooden spears suddenly burst free from the blackness that encompassed Florence. As if the darkness had been some kind of bubble that had just been popped, it vanished as quickly as it had come into being.

With it gone they could see Florence once again… and what had become of her.

Florence Bastien crouched upon the ground on all fours… her green tinted skin had been dyed a deep dark brown, her ears become pointed, her mouth an elongated muzzle filled with sharp wooden teeth. From her back grew a strange cluster of plant life that constantly twisted and writhed like some kind of oversized tumor.

Vines and wooden tree limbs grew and retracted from it, and after a moment it was possible to tell that this bizarre section of her body had produced the many shafts of wood which had burst free of the dark orb.

"I, am, a, hunting, wolf!" Florence Bastien howled back at Gwydion.

"SO FOOLISH, SO VERY FOOLISH! YOU ARE WHAT I TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE! IMMORTALS LIVE FOREVER AND FOREVER IS VERY A LONG TIME, YOU WILL SUCCUMB JUST AS ALL THE OTHERS!" Gwydion insisted before producing a third blob of darkness to hurl at Florence.

Not only that, but something began to push against the brightly glowing Obsidian Gate, and slowly a gigantic spiked tail began to force its way through…

XXX XXX XXX

"Tekeli-li, Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li, Tekeli-li!" Mirri kept repeating the nonsense words and over again over again.

"Mirri… Mirri are you all right?" James desperately tried to get the woman he loved to talk some sense as she lay babbling madly upon the ground.

Mirri Catwarrior suddenly stopped screaming.

"I… I am fine. No, I am glorious! I am a finger on the hand of god!" Mirri cried out, rising to her feet far too swiftly.

"YOU BASTARD!" Screamed James Firecat at the top of his lungs as he all but instantly realized what was going on.

He had long heard stories of the power of evil magicians to control undead… even intelligent undead. He had never imagined just how horrible it would be to witnessed it happen before his very eyes though.

"Surrender to me..." Hissed Mirri Catwarrior's voice, except that it wasn't Mirri's voice. The vocal chords were the same, but nothing else was.

There was no assurance, no affection, there was not even any seduction in the voice, it was simply a command as Mirri gazed deeply into the werecat's eyes.

"Surrender to me..." Mirri hissed again.

James Firecat's right hand went to a pocket of his red jacket.

"You may have been a vampire ever since we met, but Mirri… don't let him make you a monster..." James pleaded pitifully.

"There is no 'Mirri' there is no mind, there is no soul, there only an empty shell to be filled with his infinite ecstasy and power! Surrender and join me the transcendence of undeath! I am the most beautiful woman in this world, you can deny me nothing!" The abomination that wore Mirri Catwarrior's body insisted, its eyes still locked on James'.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world… but not the one to come..." James insisted in a mournful voice, then pulled out the pocket's contents.

It was a simple (if well made) carving of a cat sitting upright on all four paws crafted from black stone. There was a piece of string looped around the cat's neck but the young lycanthrope opted to tightly grip the statue itself instead. He lifted it up before his face and the vampire took a step back.

"Drop the statue..." The abomination demanded, suddenly no longer sounding quite so certain.

Instead James raised it up before his face, so that if the vampire puppet wished to look at him, it would have to look directly at the statue. In theory the statue was nothing truly special, a good luck trinket from his mother, he'd never even bothered to ask Florence if it was magical or not.

It was a simple black statue, a simple black statue that now acted as a focus for every single ounce of James Firecat's devotion to Bastet, Goddess of cats as protectors of hearth and home.

When seen through a pair of stolen red orbs though, that statue wasn't black anymore. No, now it blazed with a rainbow radiance that seared the eye and confounded the mind.

The vampire puppet turned its head aside, no longer willing to use its charm gaze if it required looking directly at the statue.

"Bastet is with me!" James declared proudly as he took a step forward.

The abomination took a step back, it tried to speak, but no words left its throat.

"She who pets my ears, strokes my fur, and gently rubs my throat. Bastet, is, with, me!" James insisted again, taking another long step forward.

"Can you bring yourself to destroy that which you love? Can you even bring yourself to hurt me….?" The abomination hissed back at him mockingly, its head spasming back and forth so it would never have to look straight at James for long.

James' other hand went into another pocket of his jacket and clenched tightly around something.

"Dead nerves can't transmit pain. Besides, this won't really hurt 'you' more is the pity." James declared before dashing forward.

The abomination's arms came up to strike at him, but James kept the statue front and center. He tilted it, shifted it, and made sure that whenever the abomination tried to get a good look at him, all it saw was the statue.

Unable to clearly see its foe the abomination was reduced to lashing out blindly. James managed to twist his body beneath the monster's slashing claws, transforming himself into a half feline beast in the process for extra speed and strength. His jacket began to be absorbed into his body, but not before his left hand emerged, holding a wooden stake.

With one smooth motion, he slammed the it home.

Driven by lycanthropic muscles the stake's wooden point managed to crack the bones of the abomination's ribcage and continue onwards. It buried itself completely in the puppet's body, and in the process impaled an unbeating heart.

Mirri Catwarrior's red eyes went wide in shock and she toppled backwards mouth wide open in a silent scream as her body was granted the "blessing" of complete immobility.

James' transformation reversed, his jacket emerging back into existence, and next he removed a mask from it. It was made of wood, carved in the shape of a snarling cat, and he slid it on easily over his own face.

"Bastet is with me… and what manner of god fails to protect their servants?" He scoffed in defiance of Gwydion's claims of dietyhood.

XXX XXX XXX

Alexander Diamondclaw surveyed the situation: Loht's body lay on the far side of the arena all but completely still, arrayed against him an entire army of the fearless undead under the sway of a cruel would be god who was rapidly joining them on the field of battle, one of his own companions already suborned, Florence locked in a magical duel that could only have one possible ending, and Loht's cadre of living bodyguards already fleeing for their lives down the spiral staircase, hoping to reach the ground before the undead could surround them.

The conclusion was obvious, it was time to attack!

"James, play my marching song!" Alexander commanded as his single eye fixed upon Loht, a mad plan forming in his mind.

James Firecat had heard stranger orders from the silver haired man and took solace in his leader's unshakable confidence.

He reached into yet another pocket of his jacket and pulled out a harmonica. He pressed it to his lips blew into it, and in an instant an entire symphony filled the air.

Drums beat out a rolling martial rhythm in company with the waling of powerful instrument whose shrill sound seemed to have been designed expressly for cutting through the chaos of a battlefield.

Wolf Claw slid into Alexander's hands as he charged forward towards Gwydion's mismatched (and massive) army with a tune on his lips.

"Axes flash, broadswords swing,

shining armor's piercing ring..." He sang out as he cleaved one spectral being in half, causing it to dissolve away into insubstantial ectoplasm.

That was the easy part though, the next foes he faced were a quartet of deformed beasts that twisted and bent unnaturally as if they were all muscles and skin with no bones at all.

"Soldiers stand with a polished shield

Fight those bastards till they yield!" Cal Wright and Devi Skye cried out in accompaniment as a bolt of lightning and an expertly aimed bullet felled two of monsters.

"Protect every twig and stone

Fight to keep this land your own!" James Firecat insisted, switching the harmonica to a one handed grip.

Like so many times before, instrument continued to play on even though he no longer breathed into it. His other hand was busy reaching into every pocket he could find in his jacket, pulling out knives and tossing them into the pressed ranks of the saugh. Wherever the blade ended up landing it would be hard pressed to avoid striking one of Gwydion's undead servants on its way there.

"Sound the horn and call the cry,

how many of them can we make die?" Florence Bastien announced triumphantly as she again dispersed the dark clouds that Gwydion had summoned to engulf her.

Then she lowered her head and let loose with a long lupine howl. Not just sound left her throat, out of her open muzzle shot forth a great beam of golden light that plunged into the depths of the Obsidian Gate, a brief pinprick of brilliance within the infinite darkness, a small section of seared and scorched flesh upon Gwydion's gigantic body.

As Alexander struck down his latest foe, a zombie wielding a huge executioner's axe, it had its revenge from even further beyond the grave than most undead. As its skin was split open by Wolf Claw, a fowl pungent miasma rolled forth. The caustic cloud blinded his eyes and seared his lungs with every breath that he took.

Momentarily weakened the silver haired man dropped to one knee, weakly gripping Wolf Claw as another of the undead executioners approached, axe raised and ready to strike him down.

With a soft whistle of parting air the axe descended.

With a sharp metallic CLANG the axe bounced off a pair of scimitars.

"Shall we dance?" The words were spoken in a soft feminine Tepestani lilt by a muryan who had decided to interpose herself between Alexander and the monster.

The undead creature pulled back its great blade with machine like precision in preparation for another blow.

One it never got a chance to deliver.

The dancing woman flowed past Alexander, slipped inside the monster's guard, and spun her entire body about with something more like a ballerina's grace than martial prowess. She focused her entire body's weight behind one single solid kick, slamming it directly into her foe's midsection.

The monster flew back and struck more of its fellows. As its skin burst open the vapors it released ate away at their bodies, causing them in turn to spew still more of the deadly fumes. Like a series of festival fireworks tied in a bundle, each one that popped helped bring about the next's destruction, a full score of the rotting axeman perished in short order.

"The lee-due with the silver hair, he knows where the best fighting is!" Declared the dancing woman, clanging her blades together in approval.

Nor was she the only one; every muryan bodyguard Loht had brought with him was now eagerly racing forward.

Their feet struck the ground perfectly in time with the beat of James' music and they raised their own voices in song.

"Follow orders, as your told,

Make their yellow blood run cold!" They decreed in one voice.

Having been given a brief moment to himself, Alexander Diamondclaw's miraculous regenerative abilities had sprung into action. He now rose to his feet, coughing out the last of the vile poison and strode forward to battle once more.

His silver hair trailed out behind him like an unfolding banner as he positioned himself in the van of the dancing men's charge, still singing all the while.

"Fight until you die or drop

A force like ours is hard to stop!" He declared proudly as Wolf Claw cleaved the skull of a red boned skeletal creature.

"Close your mind to stress and pain,

Fight till you're no longer sane!" The muryan called back in approval.

Cal, Devi and James all continued to support the charge with more knives, bullets, and "minor" mystical attacks from Devi's magical rings.

"Let now one dam cur pass by..." The trio declared solemnly as they did what they could to clear a path for Alexander.

"How many of them can we make die?" All those who present who opposed Gwydion shouted defiantly.

"SILENCE!" Gwydion shouted back.

A shower of strange objects roughly the size of hailstones, except that each one was dark as could be fell upon James Firecat. Even wearing the blessed mask of Bastet the young werecat was still pummeled mightily by the blows of the stones as he sought to leap, roll, run, or otherwise win his way free from the magical storm. One of his eyes was blackened by a well placed stone, and another forced the harmonica from his hands before yet another smashed it to pieces.

"I WILL HAVE SILENCE!" Gwydion's booming voice cried out in triumph.

Sure enough the music died away and there was silence other than the sound of metal on metal and metal on flesh.

Alexander and his muryan force was still pushing forward, but every foot of ground they gained came at a price. None of those who aided him had anything approaching his ability to regenerate from wounds. Neither were all of the muryan as skillful as the dancing woman at his side who evaded attacks so effortlessly it was as if her foes gad been trying to miss on purpose.

More and more muryan were being pushed back and falling to their knees, their bodies marred by deep gashes, unable to keep up with Alexander.

A swarm of Gwydion's spectral minions rose up into the air, ready to sweep around the sides of Alexander's charge and easily slaughter those dancing men who could no longer fight at the front.

That was when the music started again.

This time it wasn't being produced by one single instrument, even a single magical instrument, instead there seemed to be an entire orchestra playing the battle song that Alexander had begun.

Entering through the veil of shadows that surrounded the Obsidian Gate at Alexander's back came a veritable troop of musicians. They played the song on fifes, they played the song on whatever drums were small enough for them to carry, they played the song on lutes, and they played the song on instruments the likes of which had no name outside the Shadow Rift.

They played the song with a complete and utter detachment for the battle going on around them, focused solely and completely on the music.

Following them was Princess Maeve of the Arak, looking exquisitely beautiful as always, even with a quiver of arrows slung across her back and a longbow in her hands.

She wasn't the only shee present either, just as she had brought an orchestra worth of changeling musicians, there were at least fifty other Arak of her breed present armed with bows of every type imaginable.

"Guard your servants and children well,

send these bastards back to hell!" Maeve sang out as she relaxed the bowstring she'd just pulled taut.

A perfectly crafted arrow fetched with feathers from some brightly colored exotic bird soared through the air. It buried itself in the unbeating heart of an incorporeal monster, the arrow's mystical nature allowing it to strike true all the same. The ghostly undead creature promptly vanished.

A moment later following Maeve's example a storm of wooden arrows was loosed against Gywdion's undead army.

The tide of flying undead which had been poised to start rolling up Alexander's charge was halted, many of its members ceasing to exist then and there.

"We'll teach them, the ways war,

They won't come here any more..." A series of voices sounding aged and yet also full of energy added next.

Brightly colored lizards skittered between the feet of Maeve's reinforcements. The small creatures raced forward with the celerity that animals they resembled could only achieve for far shorter bursts. They alighted on the shoulders, backs and anywhere else they could find of those muryan who had been wounded in the battle. Now within arms reach of their patients the portune began to properly ply their mystical healing arts.

There were brief bursts of glowing energy, and then dancing men who had been so badly wounded that even they had fallen back now found their flesh whole and unmarred once more.

"Use your sword and use your head,  
Fight till everyone is dead!" The reinvigorated Arak cried out joyously as they returned to battle with all the zeal of a someone reuniting with their long lost lover.

"Raise the flag up unto the sky,

How many of them can we make die?" A chorus of somewhat squeaky voices announced.

Additional percussion was added to the music as the alven servants of Princess Maeve made their contribution to the unfolding battle against Gwydion.

The alven looked no different than when the group had last saw them back in the flower fields. They were unimpressively tiny, a foot across from head to toe at most, with brightly colored butterfly wings flapping from their shoulders.

The bright red haired Arak did not look quite so harmless though when half a dozen or so of them were perched on the back of gigantic wooden monsters that each had to be at least twenty feet tall.

Their mounts might have once been normal (or at least as close as anything in the Shadow Rift got to "normal") trees, but now they were clearly treents, living creatures that were roughly humanoid in shape but on scale with the ancient oaks, pinewoods and other trees that they had been before their transformation.

One of the treents even held another "small" tree trunk that was only six feet or so feet across across as a club.

The treents were by no means quick, but creatures of such size rarely needed to be. They advanced forward, wooden juggernauts, ready to crush all who stood before them.

"STUPID, SPITEFUL, CHILDREN!" Screamed Gwydion.

A bolt of malevolent dark energy materialized out of thin air before the Obsidian Gate and launched itself at the foremost treent.

It struck it exactly where its heart should be, except that trees had no need of such a vulnerable organ. None the less dark energy began to course through the magical plant and its bark turned from dark brown to a chalky gray, promptly starting to flake off in great clumps as the treent dropped its club and stumbled to the ground.

Florence Bastien turned her attention away from the magical duel she had only been surviving because Gwydion desired her servitude more than her death. Her wooden paws began beat across the ground, and propelled her into the air. Vines burst forth from the twisting mass on her back, wrapping themselves firmly around the fallen treent, allowing her to easily scale up the side of its body.

She took up position on its back alongside the alven who were already perched upon it. They were already letting loose with a torrent of various languages casting spells in whatever tongue suited them best. No sooner had they started to restore some measure of vitality to the treent then Gwydion conjured forth another dark bolt and slammed it home just as swiftly as the first.

More bark turned gray, more of it began to fall away and the treents body began to creak and groan as if it might split in half at any moment.

Not only that, but still more balls of blackness homed in upon Florence, and temporarily swallowed her yet again.

The wooden wolf dispersed the darkness through sheer unalloyed disdain, still refusing to give into Gwydion's transforming magics. Next, still more vines burst from her back and plunged themselves into treent, forcing her tentacle like growths into its body through a patch of gray wood which promptly gave way at her slightest touch.

Then the dryad raised her own voice in sylvan, calling forth mystical spells of healing designed to restore life and vitality to a plant, just as the alven already were.

A third bolt of dark energy struck the tree, but the greyness failed to spread this time.

She and her alven companions did what they could to hold some fragment of Gwydion's attention upon themselves, and as they did so the other treents continued to advance.

With the mad (or at least enraged) "god" focusing primarily on the newest arrivals Alexander and the muryan continued to cut a path through the undead army before them. Foes made of naught but spectral essence went down before Wolf Claw's blade just as easily as if those made of flesh and blood, and Alexander was reaping an impressive tally of both.

The only one who could keep pace with him with the female muryan whose body vibrated like a hummingbird, darting here, there, and everywhere. While Alexander preferred to bisect his foes with one clean slice each, her twin blades sliced countless minor cuts into those who opposed her. Even undead who could not feel pain found their bodies beginning to fail them once the right bits of bone and sinew were hacked to pieces.

Florence's lupine ears heard a familiar laugh coming from one of the alven atop her treent who likewise must have been able to recognize her even in her new shape.

"Dawn has broke, the time has come,

Move your feet to a marching drum..." Florence called out to the treent as her mystical powers combined with those of the alven spurred it back into motion.

"We'll win the war and pay the toll,

All fight as one in heart and soul!" Alexander insisted as he continued to press forward, forcing a way through Gwydion's servants.

Though they still outnumbered the Arak, undead were being pushed back. Clearly manipulating so many beings at once was proving a somewhat distracting task for a being who had not yet fully escaped from their prison. The monsters were reacting just a little too slowly, and ironically despite their shared master they fought more like a gigantic mob than as a coherent army.

That was why with one last desperate charge aided by the mighty treents Alexander managed to push his way through their lines and reach Loht.

With slow pained moments the Sith prince turned his heads upwards to look at the silver haired man.

"Behold an immortal fool! Behold the Crippled King, son of a long-lost hero, fallen far beyond death! Touch me not meddlers, unless you mean to end my sorrows by ending my life. You can harm me no more..." He hissed out.

Before he'd even reached the part about "touch me not" Alexander had already scooped Loht up in his arms, and started retreating backwards.

It was only when Alexander actually managed to achieve his first goal that Gwydion finally chose to take part in the battle himself. His spiked tail came slamming down like a gigantic mace, an ominous dark green liquid dripping from its every barb.

At least a dozen of his own undead followers were smashed to bone chips by the blow along with two unlucky muryan. Alexander in full flight had been just a little faster than Gwydion expected and thus avoided the ground shaking attack.

Gwydion pulled his tail back up, preparing to slam it down again, only to discover that it gained an unexpected passenger.

"Protect every twig and stone

Fight to keep this land your own!" Sang out the female muryan as she managed to climb up and jump from poisonous barb to another like a monkey ascending a tree.

She moved between them with ease, and swung herself up into the air. Her swords have been momentarily scabbarded soon slid back into her hands, and she began to slash away at Gwydion's tail.

Pungent dark ichor leaked from the cuts, and Gwydion's tail twisted about in blind rage, now focused on obliterating the female muryan rather than stopping Alexander.

As the silver haired man ran his constant jostling caused the Crown of Arak to bounce from Loht's head and the Sword of Arak to fall from his limp fingers. It also seemed to cause Loht some considerable pain, not that Alexander especially cared.

"If Gwydion is going to be stopped, I need your help." Alexander growled under his breath as his body began to transform.

Muscles bulged and grew, his already long silver hair grew longer and thicker still. The stuff burst from his every pore, as his gloves and boots began to retract back into his body to make room from his growing physique.

His mouth grew wider to accommodate large pointed teeth then became longer to accommodate a great many of them. His ears shot up straight and extended as bright silver fur covered them while a silver tail burst free from his spine.

Where once had stood Alexander Diamondclaw human, now was Alexander Diamondclaw, gigantic wolfman monster. The only thing about him that hadn't changed was his eyes, his left was still green, his right still the strange orangish amber color.

"Sound the horn and call the cry,

How many of them can we make die?" Loht coughed back by way of answer.

"Florence you have to keep him distracted!" He growled in surprisingly flawless Balok as he reached the roots of the treent she was perched upon before continuing on his way.

"Axes flash, broadswords swing,

shining armor's piercing ring!" Florence growled back, her voice likewise mystically unchanged by her transformation.

Alexander didn't have time to stay and listen, he had one single goal in mind, the staircase which lead up to the Obsidian Gate. A staircase which Gwydion's minions had wasted no time in claiming once their master had begun his entry into this world.

Every single kind of undead he had battled to reach Loht barred his way, crammed tightly together to the point that there might as well have been one waiting for him on every single step.

The silver furred wolfman only had one free arm to work with, his other still busy holding onto Loht.

One arm was enough.

"Soldiers stand with a polished shield,

Fight those bastards till they yield!" Alexander sang triumphantly as with mighty blows of his lupine limb he knocked aside skeletons, zombies, and creatures he could not find the name for.

One and all he struck with such force that they were sent hurtling off the staircase, often unintentionally knocking their companions behind them along as well.

A furry juggernaut Alexander advanced up the stairs, clearing a path through all of Gwydion's minions who dared to stand before him.

Their master would not be so easily dispatched though.

"YOU, YOU ARE THE MOST IRRITATING OF THEM ALL!" Gwydion's voice rumbled as still more of his body forced its way in through the Obsidian Gate.

A gigantic eye on some kind of strange blue stalk slid free, and glared malevolently down at Alexander.

As it did so suddenly from out of nowhere huge strands of darkly pulsating vines began to burst free from the stairs. They looked as if they were diseased, and yet somehow all the stronger for it, twisting, knotting, and growing with a horrible cancerous speed to block Alexander's progress.

"I am Mac Tire Cáiliúil, tremble at my howl!" Alexander Diamondclaw declared as he continued to rush forward.

"Protect every twig and stone,

Fight to keep this land your own!" The Arak and their changeling servants below called out in encouragement.

The evil wicked thorns tore at his fur and skin alike, but they could not stop him. They barely even slowed him, bleeding individual drops of blood from a hundred different tiny wounds Alexander smashed through the thorny barrier and continued on his way.

"I WILL TEACH YOU YOUR… AHHHH!" Gwydion began to threaten before he was cut off.

No doubt the strange eldritch eye had been about to let loose with an even more powerful spell, but it never got the chance.

Not when Florence Bastien had just barked out another beam of bright golden light which speared straight into this strange eye of Gwydion's and with a horrific sizzling sound it burst in spray of foul ichor.

" **NO! NO PIECE OF THE REGALIA WILL PASS THIS GATE! YOU WILL NOT RID YOURSELVES OF ME THAT EASILY! NOW IS THE HOUR OF MY RETURN I SHALL BE NOT DENIED!"** Gwydion insisted as another gigantic pulsating black tentacle burst free from the portal and lashed out at Alexander, determined to knock him for the staircase and send him falling to the hard floor before.

Its size was so great that it blocked the entire staircase by its sheer bulk alone if nothing else.

The silver furred wolf creature bent its legs and jumped. He sailed over Gwydion's reaching tendril and landed atop it, Alexander's powerful claws digging in through the smiley flesh to provide him with a firm grip.

He took off running again, sprinting across the tentacle, each step bringing him closer and closer to the Obsidian Gate. A gigantic hand with far too many fingers began to push against the Obsidian Gate struggling to break free.

"Long live the Prince of Shadows..." Alexander declared softly for Loht's ears alone as he leaped into the air once more.

A few seconds before it happened the sith Prince realized exactly how Alexander "needed his help" against Gwydion.

Even though his rib cage had been crushed into countless splinters, he began to laugh.

Not the low hissing laughter traditional to his breed, but a rich full belly laugh, heedless of how doing so wracked his broken body with still fresh pain.

Then it happened.

Just as the finger tips of that mighty hand began to press through the barrier, the silver wolfman hurled Loht with all his might.

One moment the prince of the sith was there bedecked almost all of the Regalia of Arak, the next he vanished completely as his body passed through the Obsidian Gate, propelled by the strength of Alexander's limbs, still laughing all the while.

The instant he passed through that mystical portal a howl of rage the likes of which had never been head before rang out.

The circle of crackling lighting which had surrounded the Obsidian Gate began to suddenly start to contract and the hand which had just broken free was pulled back through it, as was the blinded eye.

The grasping tentacle was a different matter though. The crackling lightning circle grew smaller and smaller and began to squeeze against the edges of the writhing limb.

With a sickening "SKKKSSHHH" sound they cut cleanly through the gigantic limb causing it to fall limply to the ground. That final obstacle dealt with, the circle of lightning collapsed inward upon itself until it was no larger than a balled human fist… then it was gone completely.

The Obsidian Gate had been closed completely and utterly.

There was silence for a moment.

"Sound the horn and call the cry,

How many of them can we make die?" The words rose from the throats of all those who still lived within the arena.

Almost instantly the army of the undead began to fall apart. Those who could fly or turn insubstantial did so and departed from the field of battle, while those that could not began to awkwardly try to limp away, often to promptly be cut down, crushed flat, or pincushioned with arrows. Without Gwydion's will driving them, they clearly saw no reason to continue the battle.

"How many of them can we make die?  
How many of them can we make die?" The muryan joyfully chorused as they now fought not for survival but simply to see who could slay the most foes.

"This one counts for twenty!" Eagerly insisted a female muryan perched atop the tail she'd eventually managed to cut free from Gwydion's body.

After the last of his horde had either fled or been slain, the muryan who had finally run out of undead foes turned their attention back upon Alexander and his companions.

Then they began to beat their swords together in riotous applause.

XXX XXX XXX

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Cackled Loht as he floated in some vast great empty blackness before the incomprehensible true form of Gwydion the Sorcerer Fiend.

"PATHETIC BROKEN PUPPET!" Gwydion mocked the sith who no longer seemed sane enough to care, and yet was his only companion within a black void that was vast even to a being of his nature.

"I CREATED YOU! I CAN DESTROY YOU JUST AS EASILY! DOWN TO THE LAST INSIGNIFICANT SCRAP!" Gwydion's voice came booming out from what surely had to be more than one mouth.

Suffice to say, he was not pleased that Loht continued to more or less completely ignore him.

His latest comment did finally cause the sith prince to stop laughing, though it seemed nothing could banish the smile from his lips.

"I'm still going to see my father!" He practically whispered.

Gwydion summoned up a sphere of mystical forces and slammed it into Loht's body utterly annihilating the Arak Prince in the blink of an eye.

Then he was alone again.

Just his immortal body, adrift in an ocean of utter darkness.

Immortals live forever, and forever is a very long time.

End Chapter.

AN: I know what you're thinking. "I can buy a magic harmonica that can make play more music than any one instrument, and once started will keep playing even without further prompting. My suspension of disbelief is a little stretched by the fact that the Arak suddenly know the tune and the lyrics all of a sudden though!

Well don't worry, I have two perfectly reasonable explanations, and you can pick which one you like better.

The first is that James Firecat's harmonica has (had I guess now… sad kitty) the "Heartsongs" (a term coined from some the My Little Pony branch of the infinite loops fanfiction but applicable in many other settings) enchantment to it. What this means is that anyone who hears the music produced by James' harmonica will instantly gain a subconscious knowledge of the tune and lyrics to whatever song he is using it to play/sing. The subconscious knowledge will become conscious the moment that the person listening wishes to play/sing along. The Heartsong effect thus neatly resolves the "I can't believe the Devil is so unforgiving!" "I can't believe everybody's just ad-libbing!" issue.

The other possible solution is that Alex's favorite marching song is also a famous Arak battle anthem, hey it could happen!

By the way the song in question is a slightly modified (mainly just to take out references to horses/calvary since they have nothing to do with this battle) version of Heather Alexander's "March of Cambridge" (Alex must be a fan of her Ravenloft equivalent since as you may remember one chapter ago he adapted another of her works into his love song to/with Florence) which works perfectly for many reasons.

First of all still Celtic, so still fitting into the general theme of Tepest/the Fey/Shadow Fey. Second of all the song has an appropriately fatalistic bent to it if you stop and think about the lyrics. Granted, not to the extent of say "Hearts of Iron" by Sabaton, to me the unspoken aspect of "How many of them can we make die?" is inevitably "Before we ourselves are inevitably killed..." wouldn't you agree?

Thus even though the song has several lines about victory, it also has a sort of fatalistic refusal to submit in the face of all but certain death air to it that makes it appropriate for what would seem like surely a last stand.

Oh and you may be wondering about the entire "crown flies to Loht" thing that got this entire mess started. Yeah I added that in, in practice if the heroes still have the crown they'll end up bringing it close enough to Loht while trying to kill him/close the Obsidian Gate for good that it'll trigger the ritual he's working on, and Gwydion will begin to emerge. If I ran things by that approach though the heroes would have already had one part of the Regalia of Arak and so it would been much easier to banish Gwydion.

So while Cal may hate it with very good reason, choo choo here comes the MacGuffin Delivery Service, guaranteed to make your climax more tense and thrilling!

If you're wondering what Florence looks like in Greenbound Legendary Wolf shape, assume a biological version of Blade Wolf from Metal Gear Rising Revengence (maybe a little more streamlined to suggest feminine/female) except instead of just having a chainsaw mounted on her back Florence has a shifting mass of vines and tree limbs growing out of her back that she can shift/transform into whatever sort of weapon/tool she needs.

Yeah, when Florence wants to, she has a lupine based combat shape that's just as frightening as Alex's. Guess last chapter's song wasn't quite as metaphorical as it could have been….

Also in theory the sunbeams she shoots out after transforming maybe should have come from her paws, but the spell does only say "you can use a standard action to evoke a dazzling beam of intense light each round" not anything about where the beam of light emerges from, so of course as a wolf she's going to howl them out, much more dramatic and awesome that way.

Also you may remember back in the first book I talked about how most of the time the show down with a darklord would be a one on one affair? Well this is how powerful Gwydion is, I don't even attempt to pay lip service to that particular rule, this was clearly an all in attempt by every member of the group doing their utmost. Give or take Mirri of course, but I had to accurately reflect Gwydion's undead mastery ability.

That said, from the way it is written, (in Gazetteer Five) it would suggest that Gwydion has complete control over all undead in the Shadow Rift, be they intelligent or not, created by the shadow fey or not, and regardless of if he is sealed in the Obsidian Gate or not (that or I just misread it, that could happen pretty easily). Which would mean that if I was going to play that one exactly as written, he should have been able to brainwash Mirri as soon as she entered the Shadow Rift, and I doubt Gwydion is a good enough actor to have "pulled a Durkon" (read Order of the Stick) on the group, especially James.

So yeah, I'm toning down that power and saying that Gwydion only has it when the Obsidian Gate is open. After all, the entire point of Gwydion's curse is that he's supposed to have the entire "Phenomenal Cosmic Power, itty bitty living space" issue, and also that while on paper he's unquestionably the most powerful being in all of Ravenloft (CR 40 people!) in practice he's nearly as weak as Haki Shinpi (who if you didn't know is a geist and only has the power to seal his domain's borders, other than that his curse is to be forced to float around helplessly watching as his sons conduct a civil war which rips the heart out of an empire he spent his entire life striving, scheming, and backstabbing to create) all things considered.

Gwydion while he is in the Obsidian Gate gets to cast like one spell a month. Granted during the course of this adventure and the much longer period of time leading up to it he managed managed to make that one spell count as he slowly over the centuries/millenia got his pieces in place (manipulating Loht's dreams to make him believe his father had driven off Gwydion and needed to be let out of the Obsidian Gate) to make a bid for freedom.

Still to go from that "one spell a month" to giving him unlimited control of all undead in the Shadow Rift even while sealed away? That amount of undead control is an Azalin level power we're talking about! It just does not fit his theme, and so he doesn't have access to it in this story.

James counters (or at least limits the damage caused by) the control Gwydion gains over Mirri with some help form his Icon of Bastet for "presentment" purposes. Presentment is an ability that anyone of sufficient faith regardless of if they're actually a cleric/priest in their particular religion can do with their religion's holy symbol. If you truly believe in your holy symbol/god of choice, then you can force a vampire to stay at least five feet away from you, though of course this won't prevent canny vampires from just picking up rocks to hurl at your or otherwise attacking at a distance.

Then James impales Mirri's heart with a stake, which conveniently (but hey this has been established by D&D rules as far back as I can find them) will cause a vampire to become immediately immobilized and utterly unable to act… and promptly rise back to unlife more or less completely as good as new shortly after the stake is removed. Normally that's a bad thing, but in this case it is a major benefit and exactly why James carries a stake around in the first place.

Even with everyone doing the utmost, that was still Gwydion's fight to loose, and our heroes only ended up winning because of Gwydion's mistakes. That said, the purpose of a good Ravenloft adventure is to eventually have the Darklord/villain of the piece be done in by the personal vices they have refused to confront and thus allow the heroes to reap the rewards of their virtues. So Gwydion being defeated in part due to a refusal to properly wield the power that he does have is perfectly "on point" and fits the theme of Ravenloft.

To give just one example, that inky darkness he was using on Florence again and again, is a special ability he has called Shadowmaker. It lets him transform a Sylvan Fey anywhere in the Shadow Rift into a Shadow Fey as a standard action. So why wasn't Florence changed if he kept using it on her again and again? Well the Sylvan Fey he targets gets a DC 20 fortitude save to resist the effect.

Fortitude saves? For a druid? A class that gets a good fortitude as part of level progression and can wild shape into something with an absurd constitution save while still wearing wild shape magical jewelery that gives him a still higher constitution score since constitution is the second most important (behind only wisdom) stat for them?

To put it simply if you math hammer it out, at level 17 Florence has base +12 fort save, in Legendary Wolf Shape she's got a base con of 20 for another +5, and then assume she probably has some trinket or other that gives her another +4 con or something else to add to her fort save (she could have simply cast Bear's Endurance on herself to pick one not at random), and at that point 12+5+2=19, so as you can see all Gwydion was effectively doing was making Florence not roll a 1 on her save.

Save or suffer spells/abilities that only work if your opponent critically fails their check is not good combat tactics.

Likewise, he also has an ability called "Demand Submission" that can target any non shadow fey being within the area around the Obsidian Gate. It is a mind affecting language dependent ability (which isn't much of a restriction for Gwydion since he knows all the languages of Ravenloft's Core except Lamordian, Vaasi, and Forfarian) that forces the target to make a DC 23 will save or serve Gwydion completely for 10D10 days. He tries to use it against Alex at the opening of the battle but fails.

Once again to bring up that Batman quote "My brain's not a nice place to be."

After that failure, Gwydion turns his attention to breaking through the Obsidian Gate.

Also what happens with that weird eye (Gwydion's eye on a stalk not Alex's right eye) near the end of the fight is completely correct based on the book.

The eye knows a few powerful spells one of which is Wall of Thorns, a spell that I've talked about before. Alex either rolls really awesomely on that strength check or has some kind of Freedom of Movement ability that allows him to just plow through it without too much difficulty...

Then, if Gwydion's eye stalk gets struck by a major source of magic light (like Florence's sunbeam spell which also does double damage against Gwydion's or his body parts, (which is not the same thing, Gwydion is so powerful he gets to have Video Game Boss rules apply to him where each of his limbs has its own separate health bar, and he has A LOT of them) and if you were wondering, Gwydion has 648 hit points 25/magic damage reduction, and his saves are all 30+ so he was gonna make that check) then it can no longer cast magic. That's a good thing because it was probably about to try using an earthquake spell to shake apart the stairs leading up to the Obsidian Gate, well that and everything else nearby…

Gwydion also has spell penetration and greater spell penetration feats which combined with his incredible degree of power (CR 40 people!) is why his spell like attack on James was able to hurt him even when he's wearing a magic mask that supposed to be proof against all magic not coming from Bastet. Gwydion isn't a god, but he is the probably the closest thing to one Ravenloft will ever see. Dark Powers obviously excepted of course because they're more like a force of nature than an actual character.

Now eventually (in a "perfectly logical universe" something like two minutes in a reality not run by the gamblers fallacy probably longer but maybe much shorter) he would succeed. Still, when you're in the middle of a pitched battle and you're at your weakest maybe you shouldn't be spending a standard action (even if Gwydion is so powerful he gets two of them every round just because) trying to get your action figure collection all painted exactly the right color and focus on fighting?

That is the secret of Gwydion's nature, and thus the reason behind his defeat (and his capture in the Obsidian Gate itself by Maeve in the first place) after all…. For all he may resemble a lovercraftian menace with a body that could drive a man mad just by looking at it… he completely lacks their alien unknowable mind.

Gwydion is (in my opinion) nothing more than a child who is upset that his toys have dared to come to life and rebel against him. That is why he doesn't unleash some horrendous level AOE attack on the Arak force opposing him, because Gwydion wants to break their spirits more than their bodies.

The battle as written in the adventure book was not quite so grand (it had no where near as many "extras" and certainly no musical number) and instead takes place with the heroes possibly already having some part of the Regalia, and being right next to the gate it needs to be put through. The only issue they have to deal with is Gwydion's rapidly emerging body playing goalie and also possibly some Arak who attack the adventures out of habit or a handful of undead servants.

I decided to Peter Jackson the s**t out of it though and turn this into a major epic battle, or at least something approaching one.

So what did you guys think?

Oh hey this chapter also was my longest non "author commentary of the entire book" chapter. I'm going to review it again before long but I didn't want to keep you guys in suspense for super long after those fortnight updates.

I found writing this particular chapter so interesting/fun that I spent a lot of time on it before it was "time" for me to actually do so, which is why I'm able to post it so soon after the ones that came before it but were much delayed.


	13. Chapter 13

Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust...

Epilogue: You've taught me skill is not enough, it can't compare to love.

Alexander Diamondclaw (returned to his human form and wearing a new eye-patch that James had provided him with) stood facing Maeve, Princess of the Shee. Maeve's appearance was as always beautiful and flawless, not a single drop of blood had dared to stain her finery, nor was her forehead dampened by even a single bead of sweat. Only the nearly empty quiver of arrows on her back suggested that she might recently have been involved in a momentous battle.

"Pleasure seeing you here." Alexander greeted her as if they were simply meeting on some street corner by chance.

"You were supposed to keep the Obsidian Gate from ever being opened." Maeve declared in much the same manner that a young girl might announce that her new pony was the wrong color.

"The Regalia of Arak had additional powers that you didn't bother to warn me about beforehand. If I'd known, I could have buried the crown somewhere, dealt with Loht, and then closed the Gate with one of the items he was wearing." The silver haired man replied calmly.

"You're lucky I had more plans than I felt the need to divulge to you." She insisted a touch condescendingly.

"Speaking of what you didn't care to divulge to me, would mind explaining what you and your companions are doing here?" He couldn't help but inquire.

"I am immortal, and so I must consider problems on an immortal scale. What immortal being could ever truly trust a mortal to succeed? If the Obsidian Gate was opened, then there would have been only one single place where we could possibly flee; back into the Obsidian Gate and the land of shadows where we were first remade. With this entire world full of new subjects to control, why would the Twilight ever return to his homeland?" The white haired Arak explained.

"Let me guess, you've know about this possibility so long..." The silver haired man began.

"That shortly after the Obsidian Gate was first sealed I warned my subjects if they ever saw my blackstone ring in the hands of someone else that it was a sign they should gather by the Obsidian Gate in preparation to escape through it? Yes. Speaking of my ring, I will take it back now." Maeve insisted, holding out a delicate hand.

"Well your help was appreciated, it is no easy thing to fight a god." Alexander admitted as he returned the ring to its rightful owner.

Maeve slowly stood up completely straight and Alexander relaxed his posture enough that their heights were more or less equalized.

"There is a single law that me and my brother were in utter agreement over, that every Arak holds utterly sacrosanct, from the most genial alven to the most cold hearted sith." She announced to the silver haired man in polite measured tones.

"It is known as the Law of the Arak, and it states that none of us will ever under any circumstances slay another. This one law has persisted unchanging for as long as our people have occupied the Shadow Rift, and knowing the punishment it would bring, it has only been broken once." Her voice rang out, crystal clear to all those present.

Then her eyes slowly drifted up to the Obsidian Gate before returning to her conversation partner.

"Gwydion was the one who actually killed Loht." Alexander offered with a nonchalant shrug.

"That is a rather pathetic defense. If you toss someone with broken legs in the path of a stampede do you claim that the horses were truly to blame?" Maeve countered, looking deeply into Alexander's left eye.

Another nonchalant shrug was the only answer she received.

Maeve leaned in close and firmly ran her hands through Alexander's hair, pushing it aside to reveal the round ears beneath.

"A much better defense is that the Law of Arak states no Arak shall kill another Arak. You are a human though, aren't you?" She pressed before slowly pulling her hand back.

"Human enough." Alexander said, sounding vaguely ashamed of the fact.

"There has never been a law made to dictate what should happen if a human is able to kill an Arak as thoroughly as you have slain my brother. Harm yes, kill, no. With that in mind though, you did no great harm to Loht. At worst he might have suffered some minor discomforts while you carried him to the Obsidian Gate.

Let none say I am so capricious a ruler that I would create a law and immediately set about punishing those who had 'broken' it the day before. Not that there should be no accounting for the deeds you have preformed inside my kingdom of course." The Shee Princess insisted.

She took a moment to look over Alexander once again, then Florence, then Cal, then Devi, and finally James who was still flitting awkwardly around Mirri, making sure that she had not suffered any long term harm from his actions.

"One boon, each." Maeve decided.

"We're already good." Cal insisted at once.

He did not have his superior's seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of fairy tales, but he knew well enough that an improperly phrased "boon" could quickly prove itself a curse.

"Simply don't ask us to give back anything we took from the Malachite Palace, with the exception of your crown of course." Devi suggested, her bag of holding still containing the truly tremendous amount of treasure that the six had absconded with.

"Oh? You managed to find the hidden treasure vault?" Maeve asked, tilting her head to the side prettily once again.

"The hidden treasure vault?" Both Cal and Devi chorused, a sense of dread creeping up on them.

"The one hidden beneath the fake treasure vault. The fake one is filled with Fairy Gold, that will turn back into rocks, twigs, and everyday stones the moment sunlight falls upon it." The Shee Princess noted with a look of great amusement on her face.

Both elf and alchemist hung their heads in the painful realization that indeed they'd been completely taken in.

"Do not look so sour. The trap door leading down to the real vault is among the most genius of its type ever conceived by Firr and crafted by Brag. I understand that opening it requires planting a great deal of weight on one particular part of the floor, so if someone should take all the treasure in the fake vault they'd have no hope at all of activating it." She further explained to twist the knife.

"Can we exchange some of this fake treasure for the real stuff then?" Cal suggested.

"It will be done." Maeve promised.

Finally assured that Mirri was undead and well, James slowly approached the unquestioned ruler of the Arak, ready for his own boon.

"Gwydion destroyed my harmonica, it had a lot of neat spells on it..." He began.

"You will be given a new one, more magical and beautiful than the last." Maeve declared without a moment's hesitation.

"Can I get a get a new hat as well?" The werecat added quickly, his feline ears flattening themselves in abasement, worried that this would be a step too far.

"It will be sown of finest fabric." Lady Maeve promised at once.

Mirri followed after James, her own mind quite thoroughly made up as well.

"I need several skulls tied up in a leather necklace. I've got no interest in getting caught up in all this god business again without properly having one of my own to call upon. Worshiping Kali is all very well, but I'm going to need one of her icons if I really want her to help me." The vampire explained.

"The skulls will come from the most magnificent beasts in the land." Maeve promised.

Those four dealt with, Maeve next turned her attention back to Alexander and Florence.

"So, what will the two of you ask for?" She pondered.

"I will need more time to think." The Dryad insisted.

"That dancing woman, the first one to retake the field, I have business that I need to settle with her." Alexander insisted.

XXX XXX XXX

Alexander slowly walked into a large room in the Malachite Palace, he was finally alone with the muryan that he'd picked out. Like most of the dancing men she was tall as any human, and had long free flowing brown hair that would have been the envy of any woman in Tepest.

Her piercing blue eyes looked Alexander up and down but she said nothing. She didn't move either, not standing still with the dedication of a soldier, but rather the poise of a cat who simply sees no reason not to be at rest for the moment.

"According to what Maeve could find out, your name is Iriwa, is that correct?" He inquired in an attempt to break the ice.

The muryan only nodded.

"Do you know why I asked Maeve for some of your time?" Alexander asked.

The Arak shook her head, not to a degree that displayed curious confusion, just enough to make it clear that she didn't know the answer.

"You're aware of everything I accomplished to get that particular boon thought aren't you?" The silver haired man followed up.

The muyran nodded again.

"I'd like to have a conversation with you, but that tends to require both of us to talk." Alexander pressed.

The shadow fey just shrugged her shoulders.

"I was afraid of this..." Alexander sighed and turned his attention away from the dancing woman.

He walked over to a large wooden barrel that he'd also requested Maeve prepare ahead of time.

"Luckily I have something here that might loosen your tongue..." Alexander promised her.

From it he pulled out a pair of wooden swords.

"Can you guess what I want to do with these?" Alexander inquired as he took a moment to examine the blade's heft and balance.

She nodded and a small smile began to curl at her lips.

"Catch!" Alexander commanded and tossed her one of the wooden blades.

Holding the other in both hands he assumed his traditional fighting stance (though the weapon he now held was a bit smaller and lighter than Wolf Claw) and began to whistle a jaunty song.

Iriwa's entire body suddenly seemed to suddenly come alive now that she had a sword in hand (even if it was only a wooden one) and her lips pursed to echo Alexander's tune.

The two began to circle one another looking for weaknesses in the others stance, striking out with quick slashes that were inevitably either parried or dodged.

"I wondered what kind of lee-due it would take to kill the Prince of Shadows." The muryan finally spoke.

"You're about to get an answer. Though if you plan on swearing some kind of blood oath against me over it I'd be happier knowing in advance." Alexander replied as his black booted feet dancing back and forth.

"Ha! They call it the Law of Arak because it is for Arak. Besides, the little lordling had his head so far up his own ass it was a wonder he didn't choke on his own shite. These days he hadn't even been able to help us find where the best fighting was! Not like you..." Iriwa was suffice say something less than heart broken over Loht's death.

Not that Alexander didn't have to desperately weave out of the way of an expert slice a moment later.

"Even the Pretty Princess likes you, that's not easy to do, if you want to have any fun. It's gonna be horrible down here now that she's in charge. It'll be nothing one set of balls after another and the there aren't even wooden swords involved with the kind of dancing she likes!" Iriwa moaned in exasperation, before needing to back flip away from one from one of Alexander's blows.

"For the moment you can count on me to keep you entertained." Alexander pointed pressing his advantage.

"You're no ordinary lee-due that's for sure." Iriwa admitted, as she eschewed her blade and instead struck with her lower body, managing to land a spinning kick that knocked Alexander back slightly.

"Are you wondering why I stood and fought rather than running?" Alexander pressed verbally even as his sparring partner's expert blade work began to force him to retreat a few paces.

"A little..." The muryan replied, somehow managing to work a shrug into her movements so smoothly it seemed more like an obscure combat maneuver of some sort than a conversational response.

"I've got a different perspective on 'eternity' than most born on the surface. Gwydion would have wanted to enslave us all sooner or later. There are some things that even Arak and humans can agree on… Like how there's no better way to make a name for yourself than battling a god and winning." Alexander declared as he threw himself right back into the fighting.

"You've been putting your years to good use. Your technique is excellent, how would you like to live forever and become a truly legendary swordsman?" Iriwa offered.

The silver haired man launched another blinding strike but when the dancing woman moved to block it too late she discovered that it had only been a faint to get her sword out of position freeing him to land a firm kick of his own.

"I already am will, I already am." Alexander boasted.

Iriwa could only pant for breath, Alexander had a kick like a mule and though the muryan were among the physically strongest of the Shadow Fey, they were still built to favor speed over resilience.

"Ooph… it as been a long time since a lee-due managed to land a blow on me in a duel. How did you gain such skill with such a short life?" She demanded with a deep relish in her voice.

"I learned to fight for someone rather than something.

Like when one of the ellefolk saw a man fighting with all his skill but still being tormented by a hag because she had magic and he had none..." Alexander answered before whistling that same tune he'd opened their fight with.

Iriwa whistled the tune back at him again, and slowed her movements for a brief second as it became clear that she was focusing on her (long) past rather than the present duel.

"Magic? Bah! Magic is for sissies who don't want to grab a blade and join the dance! You know who likes magic? The Twilight!" Iriwa spat and smiled smugly as if she'd just declared some great philosophical truth.

"You could have taken that knight as a transcended rather as your husband." Alexander reflected solemnly, even going so far as to use the shadow fey term for changeling to help keep things civil.

"Well given how thoroughly bespelled he was I had to do most of the fighting to save himself myself. Always get a bit frisky after a good fight. You ever try to f**k a transcended? I've known trees that could give a girl more satisfaction!" Iriwa answered, licking her lips eagerly as she sized Alexander up once again.

The silver haired man took a very pronounced step back.

"We'd both suffer worse that the Priestess of Spiders." He warned the dancing woman.

Iriwa pouted like a disappointed child.

"Tis a shame. Don't suppose you've got a protegee of sorts then?" She inquired.

"Do you know what vampires can do to an Arak?" It was not the most direct of responses, but it got the point across well enough.

"Eh, can probably just find one of my own to dance with now that Mohrg doesn't have us all going on those pointless raids. That'll have to do." Iriwa reflected as she slid from abrupt stillness back into rapid movement and launched another round of attacks on Alexander.

The silver haired man struggled to keep up with his blows and also direct the conversation onto a less perilous topic.

"You also didn't have to stay with him in the village pretending to be human, and teach your family how to fight." Alexander offered his voice wavering between respect and hesitation.

"I didn't? Please! The lee-due need to have at least some swordsmen who know what they're doing, otherwise what's the point of dancing? Dancing with farmers or merchants makes me bored, and eternity is such a horribly long time to be bored." Iriwa sighed wistfully.

Alexander said nothing and instead focused on his sword work.

At first.

"What you really didn't have to do was have yourself get 'kidnapped' by other Arak in front of the entire village one night." He eventually pointed out.

The dancing woman stopped moving threw back her head and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"I nearly forgot about that! You lee-due have no sense of humor! That was the best part, seeing some scream their heads off, others running in fear, more crying to their powerless gods in horror! I even stuck around long enough to watch the funeral that they threw for me! Stuff like that is what makes life worth living!" She insisted blithely.

"Do you remember what your son did?" Alexander growled, unable to keep his voice steady.

Showing a complete and utter lack of anything approaching proper dueling etiquette the moment Iriwia paused to search her memory he launched his next attack before she chance to answer. He struck with such raw strength that he was able to plunge his wooden sword into Iriwa's stomach up to its hilt.

Then he calmly let go of it and took a step back.

Iriwa just as calmly reached down and pulled the sword out of her stomach, there was a black gaping hole in her body where she'd been impaled, and yet once the weapon had been removed it seemed to pull itself back together with regenerative speed that rivaled Alexander's own.

"Course I do. He charged one of my fellow muryan with his bare fists and started biting away at anything his teeth could get a good grip on. That fiery passion for the dance in his eyes… that was when I knew for certain he was everything I could ever want in a son." The muyran reflected.

Then she casually raised the sword she'd just taken out of her stomach along with the one Alexander had originally tossed her.

"He wasn't the brightest lad of course… but spontaneity is what makes the dance exciting in the first place." She insisted before lashing out with both blades.

Alexander darted back away from the flashing wooden swords and delivered a firm kick to the barrel he'd pulled them out of.

It spiraled end over end up into the air and Wolf Claw dropped out of it falling into the silver haired man's waiting hands.

XXX XXX XXX

A few days later the six adventures gathered up their supplies at the edge of a fracture leading out of the Shadow Rift. They weren't exactly sure what it would entail for them to pass through it, but they'd survived the trip going in and so were fairly certain they could do so again.

"You aren't thinking about leaving without me I hope!" A female muryan called out to them just as they were extinguishing their campfire.

"What are you doing here?" Alexander couldn't help but ask in confusion as Iriwa approached them, a pack strapped to her back and a sword sheath on either hip.

"It seems some little twig told the Pretty Princess that I should be in charge of the muryan now that Mohrg is going to be dead for a while, and there's no way to be certain what breed he'll come back as. So the Pretty Princess made me the Fighting Princess, and put me in charge of returning all the shadows back to the lee-dues of that town Mohrg insisted we raid.

One sibling gives us orders attack a village that doesn't even have any decent fighters, the other makes us resew shadows until from dusk till dawn..." The muryan moaned, rolling her eyes at the eccentricities of royalty, even if that was a category she now fell into.

"Do you know two know each other?" James Firecat couldn't help but ask, his new red hat shifting slightly as his ears raised and lower themselves rapidly in confusion.

"This is Iriwa, she's the muryan who saved me from that axe wielding undead." Alexander explained.

Florence promptly delivered a very firm elbow to Alexander's midsection.

"She's also my mother." The silver haired man added after a moment's hesitation.

Everyone spoke up at once….

XXX XXX XX

Dear Dame Renier

I am happy to report that despite my earlier worries the evil sorcerer fiend Gwydion has been banished back to the Obsidian Gate. I know that may not sound so important to you since you've got to deal with Vlad Drakov invading every so often, werewolves from Verbrek, and spies from Valachan but I'm proud to say that we won't have to worry about a being of near godlike power starting to smash his way across the Core! This adventure has taught me to never lose faith in your friends. They can be an amazing source of strength, and can help you overcome even your greatest foes.

PS: It really is a shame what sort of stuff family can drive us to do if we're not careful. He was a major jerk to say the least but Loht clearly did love his father, but he loved him so much that he couldn't think straight and ended up doing something that was stupid and evil even from the perspective of other Arak! So I guess what I'm saying that if you ever hear any rumors, have dreams. or whatever about someone claiming to be your grandfather come back to life and seeking to return to the throne of Richemulot for the good of its people, DON'T TRUST THEM! Besides, from what my dad says you're much nicer than Claude ever was and Richemulot only really started to gain the respect of other realms once you took control.

PPS: There's a lot of nifty stuff down here in the Shadow Rift even if it is not easy to get at and the folks don't always take kindly to strangers. Still we're in good with Princess Maeve and so maybe it'd be possible to establish some kind of a trading system? You just have to pass through the fissure which is why I'm writing you this letter as I do it and so I can record all the _**JIFDSESWEFZIVJOBSEGNOSJEIOBW**_ we have gone through…. Ummm Dame Renier my ink seems to be getting a little smudged…. five minutes after I wrote it….

PPPS: Alex is such a great guy, he made Cal share the actual treasure that Maeve ended up giving to him and Devi since the group has always had a share and share alike policy when it comes to treasure no matter who finds or wins it.

PPPPS: Grand Dame Jacqueline Renier of the Realm of Richemulot. The red furred one has been kind enough to take dictation from me, Iriwa, Princess of the muryan. Though vermin extermination has never held much excitement for me, he claims that in your land there grow rats as big, intelligent, and strong as a man. If that is true I would very much be interested in going dancing through your land's sewer system to see a few of these rats for myself. In the interest of proper procedure as befits a Princess of my standing, I am asking rather than just sneaking in and dancing whenever the urge takes me since the red furred cat child insists that such behavior is hardly appropriate for a Princess. He of course knows nothing of the ways of Arak royalty. If we can come to no accord on this issue, I heard that you are besieged by a group of warlike humans know as Falkovnian who share a border with the Shadow Rift. Would it bother you in the slightest if I went dancing with them?

Your Faithful Servant

Longhair (except for that PPPPS obviously).

End Book.

AN: I'd like to start with an apology.

I had figured out most of my characters back story well enough in advance/before I started writing book one. I had figured out most of it, but not quite all of it. I knew exactly who and what Alex's father should be and what kind of relationship they had.

I never put much though into his mother though.

It was only when I was writing Book 5 (you might have been able to guess that since near the end of it is the first time she's mentioned) that I gave any thought to who she might be, since she didn't seem important/ Alex with his weird right eye would easily have outlived any human parents/not wanted to stay in touch with them even if they were still alive.

Then I read Van Richten Guide to Shadow Fey a few times as part of writing book five. As I did so I discovered to my surprise that while most other forms of half-shadow fey display blatantly inhuman qualities like antennas, hooves for feet, fur covering the body, white eyes without pupils, serpentine eyes, hair that looks more like feathers, unnaturally pale skin, or a fox's tail… there is only one particular breed attribute listed for half fey born between a human and a muryan.

I will quote directly from table 9-5: Breed Attributes on page 107.

"Extremely long, unkempt hair."

Huh.

Well, now you can't complain that Alex looks unnaturally bishonen like for a Ravenloft character! Also I bet that "Alex's favorite marching song is also a famous Arak battle anthem" explanation from last chapter doesn't seem so silly now does it?

Feel free to go back and reread this entire book again keeping that particular reveal in mind. I'll mention where I tried to hint at it in various different ways in my author commentaries.

By the way, as a heads up, this gives you another important "corner" piece to the puzzle of Alexander Diamondclaw's back story. There's only one more that is missing, and that one will show up in the Side Story I'll soon be posting in a week, and worry about the story commentary after it. I'm curious how much of his past you guys can guess/theorize at this point!

Also, muryan are completely immune to damage from wooden weapons. I decided this makes more sense to interprate as their body's mystically healing rather than them having some kind of wood sensitive force field that prevents them from being temporarily stabbed/impaled by wooden weapons.

Yes Alex was very much aware of that fact before he stabbed Iriwa.

Also due to the loosey goosey continuity of these stories (except for this one obviously following Book 5) Iriwa will not be joining the party, (gee I can't imagine why Alex wouldn't want to keep her around for longer) beyond fixing up the people of Briggdarrow, though that might take a while so we may see some more of her in side stories in the future.


	14. Chapter 14

Here we go folks it is time for me to start doing a full author commentary of Book Six of Monster Party series, based obviously on the adventure called "Shadow Rift." This comment section delayed by my love of blood bowl as I managed to go 4-1 this weekend, my chaos team (the Gridiron Warriors) loosing only to a necromantic team that had a strength four ghoul, a strength four zombie, and a strength five weight, also known as entirely too much strength!

This adventure unlike most, clearly has some continuity behind it. It directly follows after Servant of Darkness, for the obvious reason that even in Ravenloft, most villains the PCs face will end up suffering some form of comeuppance. Loht however, despite pulling the strings behind the boowray that caused so much strife for everyone back in during adventure (not to mention ending up kidnapping a girl himself eventually) got away scott free with the magical sword he wanted.

So this adventure uses the end of that one as a jumping off point.

Now, if you're familiar with that particular adventure, or just have a copy of the book in question you might notice something.

Servant of Evil is roughly 75 pages long.

Shadow Rift is roughly 125 pages long.

Yet Book 5 and Book 6 ended up being within spitting difference of being the exact same length as one another, regardless of if you measure by total number of words or number of chapters.

So how did that happen?

Well it happened because for better or worse there's a lot in this adventure that is really good (well some of it is really good, some of it is just okay) for an adventure, but not very useful/interesting for a novel.

I'll touch on that as I go through it.

That said, let me start out by addressing a fairly obvious question that some of you may be wondering about.

Alex is indeed half-shadow fey on his mother's side. Florence in turn is very well aware of this particular fact.

Florence stars out this story with a deep seated hatred towards shadow fey, and yes she knows that Alex is half-shadow fey.

So, how come the fact that she was in love with someone who was half-shadow fey never caused her to moderate her opinion on shadow fey in particular?

Well, there's an entirely reasonable explanation.

Florence hates/dislikes/is prejudiced against the shadow fey because of their endless cycle of pulling themselves back together after they die unless they are burned by sunlight or have their souls shattered by being energy drained.

It is her opinion that this endless cycle leaves them unable to grasp what it actually means "to die" and so they can't really bring themselves to properly care about the deaths/feelings of other who are not shadow fey.

As a half-shadow fey, Alex has a few minor magical abilities, (that only work if he's not in sunlight) some stat and armor class buffs, extremely long hair, and a lifespan that should be twice the length of a normal human's (now, there's no word on this one way or another, but I'm going to assume that half-shadow fey just age more slowly once they mature rather than taking longer to reach maturity. Alex's entire back story would make no sense if even had twenty he had yet to go through puberty, but as the Van Richten Guide to Shadow Fey only says "Assuming they survive that long, they can live for twice as long as their mortal parent" either interpretation seems equally valid) with no special come back to life abilities.

In short, the thing that Florence hates most about shadow fey, simply isn't present at all in Alex. Half-shadow fey are born, live and die just like every other kind of demi-human, they lack the eternal recurrence which brings with it a deadening of the soul to the importance of people having only one life, and thus it being a crime/shame/horror to cut that life short for no/petty reason.

Anyway, now that we've addressed the elephant in the room, lets move on to talking about the adventure itself!

We start more or less exactly where the other one left off (as I previously mentioned) with the group still in Tepest and still wearing all the various Tepest related disguises in order to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves.

They won't be needing them very much (other than with Kian of course) but they had no way of knowing about that ahead of time.

Our adventure truly begins with the group arriving at the village of Briggdarrow.

Thus begins an interesting situation where the heroes are in a town where no one they can meet is quite "right" at the moment. That said, they're not in any immediate danger from the shadowless townsfolk of course.

As you may have noticed, the book of purchases that the group finds is written in Vassi, since the Tepestani language that Wyan has created is still in its infancy and so is not super wide spread even in Tepest.

Likewise the Gazetteers which normally talk about the names of the coins in any given domain, don't do so in Tepest. This leads me to the (not unreasonable conclusion) that being a small domain with no overall central authority, there is nobody who has the time or authority to bother minting coins in Tepest. Instead, the people get by on either foreign coin from Nova Vaasa or Darkon (Tepest's two larger, more prosperous, and more centralized neighbors) or make do with barter.

In fact, after another round of reading Gazetteer V (five) Tepest has a completely barter based economy and the group probably should have needed to pay for those horses they rented back in book five via goods you can eat/use rather than shiny coins.

Granted, Devi's bag of holding no doubt could have produced enough of whatever they need to acquire the beasts temporarily. Yes Devi's bag of holding is often my catch all solution for most minor miscellaneous problems that the group comes across. That said, I feel this is quite intrinsically true to the setting, I'm sure any of you who have played much D&D have either run into characters who use a bag of holding to carry along all manner of miscellaneous doodads so that you'll never find yourself lacking for some minor tool or trinket, or you've actually been those characters!

When they go and explore the village's church Alex and the others find various remains of how the Muryan who attacked the village dragged its residents there to steal their shadows.

The burnt down candles are the remains of the magic candles used as part of the ceremony and the left over crumbs of food are bits of the magical faerie food involved in the ritual. Eating it, or any other faerie food that the characters encounter over the course of this adventure is not a good idea for reasons I'm fairly certain I've already explained in my chapter author comments, but will do so again here just for completeness sake.

After you eat magical faerie food, it is the only kind of food you can draw sustenance from, meaning that you're either doomed to a life of needing to constantly steal from the Arak, or more likely eventually being taken by them and turned into a changeling/servant of some kind.

Alex who is very well verse in fey fairytale (and some of the ones he grew up with might have had more truth in them than most for obvious reasons) is perfectly aware of the trope of "eat magical food, never be able to return to your ordinary life/friends and family" and so throughout this entire adventure he's very strict on the group only eating the food that they've brought with them, or stuff Florence has cast detect magic on and made sure is safely mundane.

Alex first uses the term "elf-shot" to describe people who have had their shadows stolen which Devi finds offensive for obvious reasons. In the original first draft of Ravenloft the Arak were actually drow, and thus had more in common with elves than with fey (this is probably why so many of them have pointed ears but Florence a Sylvan Fey doesn't).

With the current revisions however, there were still at one point a handful of drow who ended up going to the Shadow Rift thanks to the Mists and spreading the teachings of the Spider Queen there, but it has still been primarily occupied by Arak/Shadow Fey.

Thus Alexander decides to switch to "Shadow-reft" instead. It is a better term anyway given that it does an accurate job of describing what is wrong with those people (they've been left without their shadows) and it has nothing to do with either elves or being shot with arrows.

That covers chapter one, and lets move onto chapter two.

The book contains plenty of fun/interesting stuff to see and do around town, and I only touched on enough of it to give an overall feel of the situation rather than describing each and every possible situation for reasons of not being able to make all of them worth the time to write or read, and I always try to keep these stories moving along at a decent clip with something interesting happening in as many scenes (IE as few pure exposition scenes) as possible.

The situations that the group does run in are all based on stuff that is in the adventure book including a collection of foreign liquors of a decidedly mediocre nature.

Eventually once the PCs have jumped through enough hoops you can have them catch sight of Kian, and eventually chase him down. He being the only human left in the entire village who still has a shadow makes him the best source of information possible for helping the PCs puzzle out exactly what is going on, and what is likely to happen to them if they decide to stay the night.

Our six protagonists being far more powerful than most Ravenloft adventuring parties decide that there's no reason not to take that particular risk, and so make themselves at home in the village's inn, though Alex probably would have preferred an arrangement with a little bit more privacy.

Which takes us to chapter three and the muryan attack.

This attack is is one of those famous/infamous Ravenloft encounters where it is perfectly fine if the heroes are defeated, as it often seems that no Ravenloft adventure is quite complete without a moment where the PC's find themselves in the clutches of the villain and only just barely manage to escape by a great deal of luck and pluck.

If you don't believe me, recall Alex's misfortune at Markov's hands back in Book 1, the wolf run in book 2, or how easy it is to die in Paridon (book 3) if you don't stick to the buddy system or act like a paranoid maniac. In book 4 there is a lesser one where you can wind up getting arrested if you misbehave in Kantora and thus are taken to Othmar, only to be ordered to retrieve his treasure from the bandits. In Book 5 there was no moment of the heroes directly being captured, but you still had to go more or less hat in hand to the Three Sisters to get the Tincture of Midnight from them, which accomplishes more or less the same effect.

Anyway, from what I can tell, it is not uncommon for people to accuse Ravenloft adventures of being railroady. After all, a darklord's power to seal the border is at the very least a blank check to a GM for forcing the PCs to deal with whatever situation they wind up in and not just run away from it. To its credit, at this point in this adventure, it is not at all railroady.

Okay I tell a small lie, but if this part of the adventure is railroady, it is a railroad laid out in a weird spider web pattern where a great many different lines diverge from one central boarding station, and all converge back at another central station.

That first central boarding station is Briggdarrow at night, and the point where they all converge again is in Maeve's dinning room.

There are about half a dozen different ways that the heroes can get from one to the other.

I'll describe the path that our protagonists end up taking as they take it, though it ends up being more or less the second quickest path there.

The quickest path to get there is for the heroes to wind up being defeated by the muryan.

If that happens, then they'll end up being captured by the shadow fey who are after all raiding this particular town for slaves rather than to try and kill people. Loht wants to start creating a huge army to help secure the various pieces of his father's regalia, and also to try and better prove his worth to his father Arak the Earlking once he is finally freed from the Obsidian Gate.

At least that is what Loht thinks he is doing.

In practice, first you turn a human into a changeling to get one servant… then if you want, you're free to kill the shadowless human and reanimate their corpse into another undead servant, it is like a two for one sale!

Loht probably is holding off on giving the order to kill the people of Briggdarrow at the moment because so long as they're still alive they'll end up drawing more people and possibly lure out any remaining villagers who are currently in hiding. So given that the shadow fey won't get the order to start killing off the humans for a while, and the fact that the muryan who would doubtlessly carry out said order end up being a bit 'inconvenienced' soon enough, that is why the villagers will still be alive (if still shadowless) when our heroes get back to them beyond the story's epilogue.

So, to get back to my point… if the heroes, are defeated they get taken as captives.

They wake up in stocks along with a few other prisoners, and eventually end up getting force-fed some of that faerie food I talked about previously. Luckily for them, Maeve shows up and says she has an interest in taking the PCs as her servants.

While the muryan who captured the PCs serve Loht… Loht has never done anything to try and delegitimize his sister, simply shift her and her followers into a lesser role. So the muryan (who were never Loht's most faithful followers) aren't quite willing to disobey a direct order from the Shee Princess herself, not when it is on such an unimportant matter as the fate of a few changelings who are of great interest to her because… well shee are flighty like that.

Maeve then uses some magic to make it so the heroes aren't reduced to the sort of compete and utter apathy most people who have had their shadows stolen fall into… for a while.

Their only hope to get back to normal is of course to go into the Shadow Rift and locate the changelings that were made of their shadows. Not only that, but to overcome their faerie food addiction, they'll need still more help from Maeve's magic, help that she is only going to give them if they do a favor or two for her…. and you can probably guess which ones.

If the heroes manage to drive off the muryan, or manage to flee from them, either by leaving Briggdarrow before night falls, or breaking away from the battle and somehow managing to shake their pursuers, then there are a lot of different things that they can do.

Before I talk about those things… I'm going to talk about what our heroes end up doing.

Florence displays the "correct" method for killing of shadow fey for good just like she did in the last chapter. Except that since these particular shadow fey get fought at night, the only way that Florence can get access to sunlight to deal with them is to keep them prisoner until the sun rises and then have them get burned to death by it.

If that sounds incredibly cruel boarding on worthy of taking a dark powers check… allow me to make the following counter argument. To kill off most vampires for good you need to track them back to their coffin, throw off its lid, and discover that before you now is not a deadly foe but a withered and weakened skeletal figure that is barley clinging to existence….

At which point you need to cut off its head, fill its mouth with holy water, or otherwise desecrate its body pretty thoroughly to make sure that it stays dead.

Nothing I have read in Ravenloft have ever suggested that the proper method for killing vampires should cause dark powers checks.

The fact that a monster is defenseless and in your power does not entitle it to mercy if it is quite literally impossible to kill it completely in honest combat.

As Florence herself notes, the worst thing about tyrants is how they tend to make everyone around them more tyrannical. With the hoops that must be jumped through to permanently kill a shadow fey, Gwydion makes everyone who deals with them just a little bit worse of a person. He's a jerk like that.

Alex and Florence have a conversation that probably makes a great deal more sense now that we know about his heritage and so are more aware of what exactly was going on behind the scenes/inside the character's minds.

At the start of this story, Alex doesn't trust himself to recognize his mother on sight, but he knows for certain that she was a muryan. For that reason, Alex is unwilling to let Florence kill female muryan for good. He doesn't especially like the things his mother did… but he's also on a gut level aware that his father's relationship with his mother went much better than any other shadow fey and mortal romances he's been able to find tales of.

So, in short when it comes female to muryan Alex lets them off "relatively lightly" (in the sense of only killing them for a decade or so rather than doing it for good) even if he can't recognize which one of them is his mother and none of them seem to remember him in turn, just to be on the safe side.

Now granted, shadow fey can change breeds, even without being killed by something other than sunlight, for example, simply because their moods/interests/desires change over time. A muryan who does actually get tired of constantly needing to find new dancing partners because their old ones keep dying and decide to take a more sedate approaching to dancing can become a shee, if they find the process of death itself interesting, they become a sith, or if they find greater and greater interest in dealing pain they will eventually become a powrie.

In short, it is entirely possible that given how much Shadow Rift Time (technically about a year passes in the Shadow Rift for every week that goes by outside of it, but that's not terribly important for what takes place over the course of this adventure, all it ends up meaning is our protagonists will be surprised to discover they get back to Tepest the same day they originally left it but a few hours later) has passed, Alexander's mother could have become any other breed of Arak since they last met.

On the other hand, though Iriwa told Alex a great deal about Arak as part of the fairytales she delighted him with as he grew up, she didn't tell him everything. Either the Arak's ability to change breeds fall into the category of things she didn't tell him about or Alex is of the opinion that if his mother stopped being a muryan she'd be breaking with her past to the point that she is no longer his mother, and thus no longer deserves his somewhat awkward attempts at "protection" anymore.

Florence finds this particular behavior a bit nonsensical, but being a dryad she doesn't have and never had parents of her own so isn't exactly in a position to judge.

Alex and Florence can't exactly come to an agreement on this particular problem (as Alex directly points out) but they're at least able to agree to disagree in a cordial manner and not let it come between them.

Stepping away from what did happen, we'll now take some time to consider what could have happened...

If the PCs try and go in the same direction that Kian's sister was said to go, in which case they'll run into a bunch of powrie… just like our protagonists did…

They can also go into the Goblinwood in which case they'll wind up encountering a bunch of goblins. These goblins being from Tepest are dangerous for reasons beyond just raw numbers. It is entirely possible that they will be able to defeat the PCs, at which point they trade them to the Arak who are willing to pay a very respectable price in metal weapons (which goblins can't make) for healthy human prisoners at the moment.

Which leads us back to waking up in stocks, getting force-fed faerie cake and getting rescued by Maeve as previously explained.

If they decide to take a boat out of Briggdarrow then they end up running into the Avanc, a nasty creature that's like a cross between a crocodile and a shark.

It is a monster that is tied up in the back story of the Lady of the Lake, who we met back in book five and Mirri disposed of. To reiterate/clarify/expand her history, there was once a kind hermit who ended up offending some evil Fey spirit who cursed him, transforming the hermit into the monstrous Avanc, changing his body but not his mind.

Said hermit had already been in mutual love with the Lady of the Lake (a sirine) who was not powerful enough to change him back, and so she refused to abandon him, especially as she'd found herself with child shortly before he was transformed..

Then some jerkish paladin came along who had heard that the waters were infested by a gigantic monster. While the Lady of the Lake was busy… doing… stuff... (this part is never very well elaborated on even in the Gazetteer) the Avanc (who was utterly incapable of human speech) found himself unable to convince the paladin that he was no threat to anyone and ended up being killed.

So the Lady of the Lake comes back, finds her lover dead and swears revenge. She tracks down a bunch of hags (who probably weren't the Three Sisters due to some time related shenanigans that are going to happen before I finish explaining the Avanc's back story) and asks them to help her with her revenge.

They give her a potion that makes her daughter age unnaturally quickly and soon become a beautiful and powerful sorceress. Said daughter seduces the paladin, and his wife finds them in the act.

The wife is horrified, and goes off by herself to cry/fume. Then the Lady of the Lake approaches her and offers to take her to a magical undersea kingdom where she will never again feel pain.

When the paladin's wife says yes, the Lady of the Lake drowns her.

The Lady of the Lake's daughter flees from the paladin as her hair starts going gray and her beauty fades. She gives birth to a monstrous son who looks like a massive half-man half fish creature who also ages unnaturally quickly.

Eventually the Lady of the Lake's daughter and the her (the Lady's) grandson attack the paladin's castle. They're both killed but not before managing to slay just about everyone except for the paladin himself who is "only" mortally wounded.

The Lady of the Lake shows up to offers him a magical potion, promising that it would save him from death.

He drinks it and while it "saves him from death" it doesn't actually heal him. It just leaves him laying there at the edge of death in constant unending pain.

At which point, the Dark Powers throw up a red card.

Mists promptly creep in and obscure everything, when they finally depart, it is as if hundreds of years have gone by. So now the paladin's body is nothing but bones, his castle a broken ruin, and the Lady of the Lake is left alone with her empty hollow victory.

Then just to twist the knife the Dark Powers create another Avanc, except this one is as bestial as it looks and will attack even the Lady of the Lake if she comes near enough to it.

So needless to say, this gigantic predator will show up to severely throw a monkey wrench in any attempt the PCs make to travel by boat and make them feel like they've stepped out of a dark fairytale and into a Jaws movie. The PCs might be able to travel far enough to reach one of the nearby forests, but if they do, well each of the three major forests has it's own scene set up.

I've already discussed the Goblinwoods.

If the PCs go into the Brujamonte woods then they're gonna have a bad time.

Inside it they'll end up inevitably meeting Blackroot a gigantic evil treent who has more or less corrupted all the animal and trees of the forest to his will. He is a really hard fight and loosing to him does not move the plot along, it just leads to the PCs dieing.

Granted, if the PC's bother to actually talk to Kian about which way to go or check for his sister's footprints, he'll tell them/they'll discover that they should go into the Wytchwood which is the correct way forward, and does not lead to any easy ways to get yourself killed.

In short, you only are going to wind up in the Brujamonte if you do something foolish or pay no attention to what is going on, and that can get you killed in any D&D setting not just Ravenloft.

Anyway, if you got into the Wytchwood you are going to get attacked by powries, though as Cal notes in chapter four, the poison on their darts is of a paralytic rather than anything more deadly.

If you fall victim to this poison then the Powrie will capture you and then you're going to end up getting force-fed faerie food, but Maeve will show up, take you as her servants and I've already covered that before…

If they can drive off the Powrie then they'll get a chance to possibly meet up with Maeve on more equal terms.

To do so however first they have to deal with the various magical barriers that Maeve set up to keep out unwanted guests.

Which brings us up to chapter five my book.

As the group approaches Maeve's home, they have to face various different obstacles. The first one is simple to explain, but a little tricky to deal with; a barrier that is impossible to break through as long as you can see it, even though you can only barely see it in the first place.

Half the fun of this is the PC's trying all the obvious approaches (around, over, under, dispel magic) and then see what sort of unconventional (lets cut down a tree and use it as a battering ram!) approaches the PCs may come up with.

They'll either eventually either by luck (damn it this thing is impossible to break… I'm gonna lean against it and catch my breath WOOOAAHHHH!) or by some deduction based on finding a few hints of what Arla ended up doing even if she did it by accident.

Once they're eventually able to get through the first barrier they have to deal with the second, a cloud of strange direction/orientation changing gas.

If you breath in any of this stuff you're not going to be able to tell which way you're going.

The group first attempts one of the more obvious mundane approaches, using a rope line to help determine which way they are going.

The Adventure Book foresaw that PCs might attempt this and suggested how to have this technique fail… and Cal is understandable upset that magic once again gets the better of anything approaching reasonable logic.

Luckily for our protagonists, unlike the first barrier they happen to have a silver bullet for dealing with this obstacle. Mirri can walk through the cloud of gas without any problem at all because being a vampire and dead, she doesn't need to breath.

So she does, the group throws up a bunch of possible (but in this case overly paranoid) ideas about how the barrier might be even more dangerous than it looks… which start to irritate Mirri since no one wants to show her the respect she deserves for so easily defeating Maeve's magic.

After that, she takes some time to get everyone through the barrier and they're now onto the third barrier.

The first and second barriers are relatively passive and pose no real danger to the PCs at all, they're free to remain befuddled by them for hours without being any worse off other than lost time.

The third barrier does not feel like playing nice or giving out second chances.

If you touch the water, then you get one round to have someone cast dispel magic or neutralize poison on you… otherwise you get transformed into a water elemental.

If you make any attempt to cross the brook that involves part of the solution touching the water (a bridge that touches the water, stilts) then water elemental will rise out of the water and attack you.

The good news is that this at least is another "fail forward" situation. If your group ends up all getting transformed into water elemental, then you wake up wet, embarrassed and possibly missing your equipment in Maeve's living room with her having used her magic to revert you back to your normal selves.

Granted you did run afoul of the magic that transformed you while encroaching on her property, and she was kind enough to reverse it, so would you mind terribly doing a few little favors for her? Otherwise she might have to find you hopelessly rude and turn you back into mindless water elementals...

By the way, if you noticed, Mirri was never depicted as using Florence's magic to cross the brook. The others can easily fly across with the aid of her Wind Walk spell, but the brook is running water and so somewhat problematic for her. Even if she was to turn into her natural gaseous form she still wouldn't be able to fly across the brook, because vampires are simply not allowed to cross running water under their own power.

That's why Alex has Kian count to twenty rather than ten, he needs the first ten in order to deal with Mirri. What Kian doesn't see happen is that Mirri transforms herself into a bat, spreads her wings, and Alex hurls her hard. Mirri isn't allowed to cross the brook under her own power, but when Alex gives her plenty of momentum, she is allowed to glide.

Then Alex proceeds to wolf out and toss Kian across the book, with Florence using her dryad plant powers to help catch Kian and make sure he doesn't end up suffering a sudden painful stop.

With the final barrier crossed the group is able to meet up with Arla, though I will point out that in the Adventure Book you actually wind up meeting up with a shee servant of Maeve's at this point. I decided that since our protagonists have have managed to defeat all foes and avoid capture up to this point, there is no real "doom clock" that they/your PCs are directly racing against at this point in the adventure (the people of Briggdarrow aren't going to get any worse the longer they're separated from their shadows) letting the group move at its own pace.

Thus, if like our protagonists, your PCs are clever, they'll probably want to arrive at something approaching noon when the Shadow Fey are most likely to be wrong footed/at their most vulnerable. If the sun it up then it doesn't make sense for an actual arak to be out and about, and no changeling servant would be able to hold anything approaching a complex conversation.

That is why I instead had them run into Arla, inside of meeting her inside Maeve's house, she's the only one who could properly greet the new arrivals.

Which takes us to chapter six, failing to kill one another over appetizers.

In the Adventure Book Maeve's house is the same size inside and outside, but I decided to make it one of those magical homes that is bigger on the inside because it fitted her character to live in a small cottage that suddenly turns into an opulent mansion once you get inside.

Maeve is not evil, she has that going for her. She is however neutral, and she doesn't view most mortals as anything more than especially bright animals, they can be charming pets if they're well behaved, but if they disobey or are dangerous to you then they need to be disciplined/put down.

In short, Maeve could quite easily teach a class on the subject of "not helping your case" when it comes to her interaction with Alex.

Not that Florence is doing the group much good either when it comes to having a polite and reasonable conversation.

Florence can feel the touch of Gwydion in Maeve, just like she could feel it in all the muryan and Onyx, and any other shadow fey that the group has encountered before this adventure. Sadly any shadow fey the group is likely to have encountered was probably causing considerable grief to the mortals of the Core. In short, while there are shadow fey of all alignments, the good ones are unlikely to have done anything that drew the group's attention.

So, on some level you can't really blame Florence since every other shadow fey the group has encountered has been evil. Not only that, but an especially callous form of evil which doesn't even acknowledge the fact that other people can have hopes, dreams, and emotions of their own. Mirri by comparison is willing to grant that ordinary everyday people can have those things… she just doesn't care/doesn't she why her own personal desires shouldn't supersede them.

To put it another way, not all people who score high on the 40 point sociopathic personality test are going to become violent criminals, some of them just become cutthroat CEO's/lawyers. You can have a conversation with Mirri about how much "worth" should be given to the cares and concerns of others. You can't have that conversation with most shadow fey, because they don't believe mortals have "proper"/"real" cares and concerns.

Maeve ends up displaying that even if she isn't malicious, she still holds true to this particular belief, and while she is not actively mean she is coldly callous in the extreme.

Alex is not amused by the fact that she serves him/them food that is illusioned to make it look far more appetizing than it actually is. He is especially not amused by the fact that it is illusioned faerie food, with all the long term consequences for the PCs mentioned previously if they end up eating any of it…

While Maeve would never be so gouache as to directly lie to her guests (even uninvited ones) Alex sees the illusioned food as a sign that the only reason Maeve will not lie to him with words (since she has already lied to him with food) is because she considers it beneath her, and would prefer to simply hide the truth/say it in such a way that those who hear it will infer the wrong thing.

In short, Alex is not especially happy to be sharing a table with Maeve, even if he might find her slightly better company than say the Three Sisters.

In short, after a brief period of trying to be especially courteous, Alex turns the "jerk" side of his personality, twists the dial to "11", then finds a way to set it to "12" instead just to drive the point home.

Maeve refuses to be moved by the "goodness of her heat" to care about or help the people of Briggdarrow, so it falls to Alex to be a big enough bastard to demand those people get their shadows back as payment. He insists that he'd allow a tyrant of god like power to seize control of an entire nation, if not the entire world, if Maeve won't preform (what to a shadow fey is) a relatively minor service for him.

Granted the argument that he presents to Maeve does have one obvious problem with it if approached from a position of perfect knowledge.

Given how time flows differently in the Shadow Rift (once again, roughly one year passes in the Shadow Rift for every week that goes by outside it) Gwydion could spend a century tormenting the Arak in the Shadow Rift and only about two years would have passed outside of it. That means Gwydion's rise to power could very much be a problem on a mortal time scale.

Maeve however loves holding cards close to her chest a little bit too much to explain the time dilation effect to Alex though. Besides, if she had bothered to explain the time dilation, Alex's counter would probably have been to start explaining everything that he's learned/realized about Darklords in his time as an adventurer.

While he doesn't have perfect knowledge of that particular aspect of Ravenloft, he has got most of the corner pieces. He knows for example that Darklords either are not allowed, or do as a rule simple do not wish to leave the places that they call home.

Alex is wide enough read to have probably gotten hold of a copy of Rudolph Van Richten's notes that resulted from him hearing the contents of a particular stolen book (see I Strahd the war Against Azalin) which no doubt mention what happened when Strahd tried to leave Barovia, even when he was walking not into strange mist but simply across a physical border.

Likewise, Vlad Drakov loves to lead his armies from the front in any internal dispute/repressive action (see the Years of the Impaled Rats) but has never taken part in any of his invasions of other land, which is a big clue that Strahd isn't the only darklord who found themselves unable to leave their domain.

He would thus argue to Maeve that since Gwydion is the most powerful and most evil being in the Shadow Rift, who is also currently suffering from an obvious horrific curse, he (Gwydion) is clearly the Shadow Rift's darklord. Which means that even if he should win free of the Obsidian Gate, he'll never be able to escape the Shadow Rift itself, once again meaning that it is clearly an issue for Maeve to worry about, but not him unless she is willing to come to terms with him.

So, faced with Alex evidently somehow managing to care even LESS about the shadow fey than Maeve does about mortals (well that, and the fact that the shadow fey have a gigantic evil magic user of god like power possibly about to be unleashed on them, thus they bargain from a position of weakness) she caves.

Alex continues to be a jerk to her and lays out terms that are basically a gigantic middle finger to showing any sort of trust to Maeve. It is basically him openly saying "here are the terms, and in a few weeks I'll come by to beat you with a huge stick when you try and weasel out of them rather than live up to what you promised me."

On the other hand, he doesn't really have a choice in the mater. Shadow fey are notorious for living up to the word rather than spirit of their agreements, to the point that Alex would probably be able to rattle off at least half a dozen such stories.

He thus after laying out the strongest terms possible, then throws down an escape clause argument ("You don't stop working at this till I say I am pleased with your efforts") which still might not be enough against someone they though they could swindle. Maeve for example could magically crafted an illusion which seemed to meet the required results, then banished the magic once her bargaining partner admitted they were satisfied.

Luckily, Alex has already proven that his eye has the power to see through magical illusion, and so Maeve realizes how pointless it is to try and trick him. That and as bad at diplomacy as Alex is being, Florence is even worse, so instead of good cop bad cop you get bad cop, worse cop.

Other groups of PCs who may find themselves bargaining from a position of considerably less strength would probably not be able to strike such a good deal, but if they in the task to stop Gwydion, Maeve will probably end up restoring the people of Briggdarrow as best she can simply a show of her magnanimity.

Either way, the group manages to make a deal with Maeve, they get her ring which will show the shadow fey (and a few others) who see it that the holders are friends/servants of Maeve and so win the PCs at least a little safety /a few favors in the Shadow Rift.

Which brings us to chapter seven.

In my first draft of this chapter I had the chapter start with Cal complaining about how he didn't know what was going on/where they were all of a sudden with the PCs having just come out the other end of the fracture between the Shadow Rift and Tepest.

It is hard to describe what these "fractures" are exactly, because they really shouldn't exist. They're holes in the border between the Shadow Rift and Tepest which is kept constantly closed/sealed by Gwydion. Thus, anyone who tries to cross the border as it physically exists on a normal map in either direction will end fading away to nothing. If you go through a fracture though, you can make the journey safely.

You can make the journey safely, but for some reason that effects Arak just as deeply as it effects mortals, you will have no memory at all of what crossing through the fracture entailed.

Any maps that are made of the journey are said in the Adventure Book to loose their pigment and abruptly become just blank sheets of paper, I decided to go for something a little bit more ominous, but can you really blame me for doing so? It certainly fits the theme of a journey you can't possibly recall in the slightest.

Getting back to my comments on how the chapter started, instead of beginning with the protagonists freshly arrived in the Shadow Rift, I decided to set the stage a little more, if only to make the end result all the more dramatic/shocking. One moment the group is in Tepest, the next (as best they can tell) they're in the Shadow Rift. What lay between no one can be sure of.

Over the course of the journey, the group lost all their "Tepest disguises": James has lost his hat completely revealing his feline ears, Mirri's skin has lost the dye that hides her paleness and her hair has regained the white streak that she'd dyed black (multicolored hair is probably a great way to draw the wrong kind of attention in Tepest), Devi's hair is now back to its normal blue and she is no longer wearing her fake human ears, Alex's hair is back to silver and it has grown long again, Florence's straw like hair has regrown and just like Mirri, her skin is no longer dyed a more normal human pigment. Oh and Cal's tie somehow ended up changing colors, shock, shock, horror, horror!

In an amusing turn of events, from a meta perspective, the group ends up with three changed hair colors, one of them showing off animal like ears, and to our six protagonists, this is a return the status quo rather than a horrific transformation!

Inside the Shadow Rift, the PCs are likely to be presented with a series of new problems to deal with. For some reason Arak maps are always drawn with East at the top rather than North, which Devi being the solid dependable simple detail oriented type, noticed back when Maeve first drew them, but if your PCs don't, then they may end up getting hopelessly confused. It certainly does not help that given how the Shadow Rift has no sun, there is nothing to use to properly orient yourselves by.

At least there would be nothing to properly orient yourself by if Cal didn't know how to make a rudimentary compass. That is entirely accurate by the way, a bit of magnetized metal (though Cal uses some premagnatized ore rather than having a full understanding of the mechanics of magnetism) left to float freely in a solution with no outside effects acting on it (waves for example) will inevitably point north.

At least, that is how things work in real life. In Ravenloft by all rights it shouldn't work, because Ravenloft is not a globe with magnetic poles, but instead a flat rectangle of a world with the Dark Powers pulling various magical strings in order to keep things humming along.

Luckily they're kind enough to make arrangements that keep magnetism working in Ravenloft (even in the Shadow Rift) so while they may not have a sun, they still have a way of telling the cardinal directions and thus roughly which way they're going.

The first group of Arak that our protagonists encounter are the brag. They're undeniable the most dwarf like of Shadow Fey, as they're true neutral and their great love in life is the steady simple reassuring nature of labor.

Brag don't come up with brilliant ideas, that's much more of a firr thing, no a brag's greatest joy is to see something transform from blueprint into actual being. They also like to play every bit as hard as they work, which is why I said they're rather dwarf like in their outlook on life.

When the PCs run into them, the brag are busy fixing a bridge. There's no reason given in the Adventure Book for why the bridge is in need of fixing, so I decided to come up with a relatively reasonable theory that makes sense based on outside events.

Muryan have been capturing a lot of prisoners/creating a lot of changelings recently, and muryan like to dance. You don't want to have a large group of people dancing across your bridge for the same reason that you don't want to have an army marching across one in lockstep. The science that Cal talks about (resonance frequency) is a thing, and it can in theory be caused by too many people/too many things lining up with the innate frequency of an object.

Cal has at least something in common with the brag, though honestly Devi has the most in common with them Cal is probably more of a firr man, since he's most proud of inventing Phoenix which represents an entirely new and brilliant take on firearms.

Devi by comparison is pretty brag like in her outlook on life, since she finds joy (or at least every day contentment) in making sure that all of life's minor little simple concerns like food, water, shelter, and light are taken care of for herself and the group.

Alex puts his considerable height and strength to good use in order to help the brag fix the bridge. They then offer him a drink, and yes as Alex suspects, the drink is still more faerie food. So, sadly Alex has to turn down some excellently brewed brag beer, which probably hurts him even more than normal given the less than stellar spirits he has been interacting with up to this point in the story.

Which takes us to chapter eight.

In chapter eight we really get to meet some of the "nicer" aspects of the Arak, though even then they can be a little bit on the unpleasant side.

Caradoc is a portune, the scholars of the Arak. Just to differentiate/make clear, the brag are the engineers who build things, the firr are the inventors who come up with new ideas, and the portune are the scholars who gather together massive amounts of information of the course of their long lives.

Granted, not always the most interesting or useful sort of information as mortals might view it, but it is information none the less. Caradoc like most portune is lawful good, but has a somewhat extremely Darwinian view of life/existence.

That works fine enough when you're observing non-sentient animals/plants, but it tends to break down when you try and apply it to beings with sentience and emotions. Such things lead to either concern for those weaker then themselves (as James expresses) or "weaker" but more numerous members of a species banding together to try and wipe out newly emerging "stronger" evolutionary trends of that same species.

If that last sentence left you scratching your head I'll try to say it more plainly.

Natural lycanthropes have a higher CR rating than normal examples whatever race they are. Not only that, but baring a few rare cases where the natural lycanthrope may suffer from some morphic instability, they have next to no draw backs other than dietary restrictions.

In a world that had perfectly level competition, you would expect the natural lycanthropes to beat the non-lycanthropes black and blue, eventually out surviving and out-breeding the baseline humans/elfs/dwarfs, until natural lycanthropy became the baseline and those who couldn't transform into animals are the exception, or completely non-existent.

In point of fact, that is pretty much exactly what is currently happening in Verbrek at the moment. According to Gazetteer IV (4) there are roughly 800 normal humans in Verbrek, but roughly 1,1000 werewolves. Now we've got no way of knowing how many of those are natural and how many are afflicted, but in Alfred Timothy's private "nature preserve" baseline humanity with no challenge rating adjustment is continuously getting the short end of the stick compared to its lycanthropic cousins.

In other lands though this isn't happening. The moment that lycanthropes show up, they're usually hunted down and killed. They're never allowed to really reach self sustaining numbers the way that they have in Verbrek, and so while the individual natural lycanthrope is better able to survive than any individual human, the society favors baseline humans and makes lycanthropic traits undesirable.

Thus, the society in which the creatures live has such a great impact upon them that it acts as a counter balance to the innate individual natural advantages!

Likewise as I previously mentioned, James would argue that there are beings of greater fitness to survive than normal examples of their species, who also posses great moral strength. Those beings (like James) would not wish to out-breed normal human beings to extinction and bring about a society solely of natural werecats.

Of course, Caradoc being an Arak, even if he is a portune, does not believe that mortal human beings have real emotions, and so is perfectly happy to suggest a hypothesis that predicts they'll act and react no differently than everyday animals.

It is worth pointing out that in the adventure book as written, the PCs should encounter the alven first and Caradoc after.

I decided to flip the order for reasons that should be obvious to just about everybody, since clearly the meeting with the alven was much more important both from the plot perspective (giving the group a guide to the Malachite Palace (which according to the Adventure Book you shouldn't be able to do, even if you have show them Maeve's ring and really impress them with your knowledge of plants/flowers they still won't openly guide you, but providing you guys with a good story take precedence over perfectly reproducing what is in the Adventure Book)) and from the perspective of the character development, as Florence finally meets a type of Arak she really does have a similar outlook on life to.

Granted, the alven are chaotic good while Florence is neutral good, but Alex is chaotic good also, so Florence has had longstanding an important relationships/agreements with people of that particular alignment before.

What luckily manages to go unsaid is that for the most part, alven tend to see plant life as actively more important than that of mortal humans, as opposed to Florence who simply has room in her heart for both. If she'd seen any of them transform people into trees and then "prune them" for the crime of stepping on flowers, the situation would have gone south pretty darn quickly.

Still, for the moment Florence starts to realize that the "shadowmaker" influence that radiates from all Arak may be dark, it is not always evil.

Which takes us to chapter nine.

Wasn't it funny how Florence insisted to her new Arak friend that Alex is a muryan, as a way of putting his position in the group into context for her? I mean the context does fit, since both Shee and Sith alike will always defer to muryan when it comes to times of war/battle. Keeping in mind that our six protagonists are constantly fighting against various darklords and other wrong doers, that is why Alex is just about constantly in charge, save for a few unusual cases, like Paridon.

Florence's new friend even realizes that Alex's has appropriately muryan like hair!

Foreshadowing, it is what's for breakfast!

Anyway, Florence parts ways with her new friend, and the group is faced with the Malachite Palace.

The Palace is of course rather sparsely defended, partly because the Arak don't believe that they are likely to be attacked by any foes in huge numbers at the moment, (there simply aren't any possible foes to the Arak domination of the Shadow Rift, except for Gwydion of course but he's a special case) and partly because Loht is playing a deeper game than Alex initially suspects.

Loht knows for a fact that Maeve had the Crown of Arak, the last piece of his father's regalia that he now needs to acquire to open the Obsidian Gate. He knows for a fact that Maeve didn't take the Crown with her when she fled the Malachite Palace and then the Shadow Rift completely. Now it isn't necessarily a given that she hid it in the Malachite Palace, since the Shadow Rift is a pretty big place after all.

That said, it is still a fairly reasonable guess to suspect that the crown would be hidden somewhere in the palace. So, he's willing to let Maeve's servants poke around he place at their leisure, since they've probably been told where exactly she has hidden the crown, and once those particular servants have gotten their hands on the crown, his servants will take it from them!

He underestimates the group and uses far too few Sith to ambush them, but hey, Arak never seem to miss a chance to underestimate their surface born foes.

So the trap gets sprung as neat as you could please…. But the fact that they want the crown more than they want the heroes dead acts against them.

Alex presses that particular fact for all it is worth, and transforms the trap into a Mexican Standoff, before turning the tables.

The muryan in charge of the matter gets the upper hand against Florence, but makes the critical mistake of believing that it is ever safe to be near a conscious enemy magic user whose spell list you do not have utter and complete knowledge of. She makes him regret that particular choice in short order due to an interesting quirk of the sunbeam spell, and then thanks to another use of wind walk the group escapes from the next round of ambushers.

Also, if you've noticed that boy Florence sure does like sunbeam, wind walk, and to a less extent, warp wood, I'll remind you that I'm portraying her as a spontaneous druid rather than a traditional one. That means she knows fewer spells over all, but has more flexibility among the spells she does know, picking and choosing at the moment she decides to cast a spell, rather than needing to lock her spell choices in stone each morning.

Which actually covers all of chapter nine and chapter ten, so lets move onto chapter eleven.

We skip over some pursuit by/a fight with the Teg at this point as you might have been able to guess. It helps show Loht putting the screws to the PCs and keeping the pressure on them, but it doesn't really offer any major chances for character development.

Instead I decide to create my own scene of the group settling in for the night and if we don't exactly have dramatic character development, we at least take a moment to hit some familiar beats, reestablish how they like to interact with each other, and give the tension a moment to dissipate.

After all, if you want your next shocking event to strike home with any real strength, you need to let the reader/PCs have a chance to reestablish some sense of normality/status quo.

So the six settle in for dinner.

Devi and her bag of holding provide just about all the possible essentials, with the one exception of more rats for James, since the bag can't hold anything alive (say better anything animate just to be super clear, it can hold plant life just fine) or anything sentient.

I established those rules back in Book One so the entire issue of James being stuck on an island where nearly all the rats he can find are intelligent actually gives some bite to his dietary restrictions as a natural lycanthrope. In this book however, I actually bother to at least establish some sense of why those rules exist back at Maeve's home.

Sentient beings are not allowed/able/choose not to go into a bag of holding because it is a surefire way to get driven mad. The human/elf/dwarf/vampire mind just isn't built to handle the sort of geometric impossibilities that take place inside a bag of holding, as even Maeve's magical mansion in a cottage is enough to make Cal's brain hurt if he tries to think about it.

Getting back to this chapter, Devi provides the group with most of the materials that they need.

We also get to see that James' mask wasn't the only thing that the kept from that tomb in Nova Vaasa back in Book 4, they've also made off with the no longer necessary jars of preservation.

If you were wondering, indeed Count and Countess will get to live out the rest of their natural lifespan as pleasantly pampered pets of Tristen Hiregaard since even Malken isn't such a fiend as to try and murder Tristen's pets. Okay, he is such a fiend, but he still isn't going to do it because he'd rather use them as spies, which Tristen knows Malken will do, but would rather at least know which cats are spying on him, and in short those two are going to be forever locked in a very complicated game of "I know you know that I know…." among other issues/problems.

Still, for Count and Countess at least they can count on having a happy ending.

James likewise does what he can for the group.

In actual wolf packs (for the given definition of "actual" here meaning "as observed by human study of wolves who are frequently not in the wild when such study is conducted) there are typically two omegas (one of either gender) as opposed to James being an omega while Mirri is classified as a beta.

That said, while Alex obviously draws a lot of personal inspiration from lupine sources, he adapts it as necessary for dealing with humans instead of wolves, which is why he lets Mirri be a beta.

Either way, James actually does more or less fulfill the general purpose of being an omega wolf. He's the lowest on the totem poll, he'll show submission to any of the other members of the group who seriously request it of him, he's the member of the group who most frequently has hunger related issues (though due to his dietary restrictions rather than needing to eat last/there not being enough food left over from the others eating) and he serves as the group's court fool/jester, it is his job to amuse the others whenever they need it.

So, with the ire of Gwydion (who even while sealed within the Obsidian Gate can still make his malevolent presence (if not actually have any direct effects in the crunch) felt throughout the entire Shadow Rift) pressing in on them, the group turns to James for help with fighting off the dire sensations and letting them properly relax.

Like I said, I was listening to "Maiden and the Selkie" a lot at the time I wrote that chapter, and I needed to spend a fair amount of time rewriting the song line by line in most places, not to mention adding another entire verse to it.

The length of time it took me to write that section of the chapter probably did a lot to make that particular chapter stretch out and take far longer to write than it is to read. By the time I finished it, I was ready to get this entire story more or less over with. So I do the next thing in the Adventure Book and introduce the erdulitle.

They function more or less like in the book, in that if you show them Maeve's ring and talk calmly and pleasantly with you then they'll give you aid, but not join you in battle.

The difference between the story I wrote and the Adventure Book is how much help they end up giving you.

In the Adventure Book if you get their help then they will let you avoid the Black Marsh. The Black Marsh contains no opportunities for character development or learning new information, or even interesting situations, it is basically one gigantic random encounter table. You are going to end up fighting a bunch of undead, possibly some other aquatic predators (eels, crocodiles, maybe piranhas) and doing a lot of very slow wading through a very large swamp.

So we completely skip this situation, but the Adventure Book lets you skip it under certain circumstances, so I don't feel bad about that.

Next up we have the Darkenheights.

I let our six protagonists skip this one also, though by all rights if I was playing by the Adventure Book properly, they should have needed to deal with it.

The Darkenheights are basically a gigantic mountain that the heroes need to scale.

As they try to climb said cliffs, they may have to deal with evil spiders. On the other hand, if they try to get cute and use magic to just fly up/over the cliffs, then they'll be attacked by a bunch of muryan riding on flying nightmares.

If our heroes had needed to deal with the mountain, Mirri would have spider climbed her way up it since there's nothing magical about the Darkenheights that would prevent her from doing so. As she climbed, she would have used still more of Devi's nearly endless supply of rope (rare is the adventure where you don't find some use for rope is her opinion) to make it easy for the others to come up after her.

I already wrote one climbing scene though, and while the Darkenheights are at least an interesting set-piece… I had bigger and grander things on my mind, so we just had our protagonists be able to take an upward sloping tunnel that went straight through the mountain.

Which brings us to the final chapter, and what a final chapter it is/was!

So, having figured out certain things in advance, I had a list of situations that needed to take place one way or another.

I wanted to show off Gwydion's ability to control all undead within the Shadow Rift, so I needed to have him take control of Mirri.

Originally, I was going to have Mirri's transformation powers go out of control and have her turn into something vaguely shoggoth like, but that isn't something vampires are normally able to do, and Gwydion doesn't bother to grant his undead subjects extra abilities.

So instead I just had her stay human looking and try to control James in turn. Likewise, I needed to have Mirri be dealt with so that she couldn't harm anyone, or do anything to help Gwydion break fully free of the Obsidian Gate.

It is very hard to knock an undead unconscious since they don't take subdual damage, and Mirri has the unique weakness of starting to die (well starting to cease to exist) like a normal living human if taken below zero hit points, rather than turning to gas and retreating to her coffin. Neither she nor James knows that, but James wouldn't want to seriously hurt Mirri to the point of zero hit points, not if he can avoid it.

Luckily, there has long been an established D&D method for how to take a vampire out of a fight without doing them lasting term harm, the stake through the heart.

The stake through the heart was the obvious approach, and so I went with it.

To James' credit though, he's had a bad habit of failing just about every single will save he's been confronted with throughout these stories, but right here, right when his back is to the wall and Mirri is trying to sway him to Gwydion's side… James clearly rolls a natural twenty and shakes it off.

Then he pulls out his statue of Bastet, and uses the fact that vampires hate to look at symbols of a good aligned god or goddess to make her unable to look into his eyes, and thus unable to use her charm gaze again.

After that, knowing what I wanted to use Iriwa for, I had some groundwork to lay before her reveal. Well that and I thought that it was worth pointing out that Gwydion is one of those rare threats in Ravenloft that is so great that people of wildly disparate alignments will spontaneously come together to oppose him.

Alex by this point knows something of the muryan mindset, both from general past interactions, what he's heard some other Arak say about them, and of course the fact that he was raised by one.

Muryan love to fight, it is unquestionably their most defining characteristic.

So those muryan who initially took flight (either to try and get themselves in a better position and not be caught on the staircase/platform with no room to maneuver or out of genuine fear of Gwydion (if there is anything that can frighten an Arak, Gwydion is it)) simply can't resist a chance to have a good battle once they see one starting up.

That's why Alex attacks. That, and he obviously still remembers Maeve's instructions about what it would take to seal Gwydion away forever, if he can get some piece of the Regalia of Arak from Loht and toss it into the Obsidian Gate, the day can still be saved.

So Alex has James strike up some music and he charges ahead, even if he charges alone.

James' music is a nice little reoccurring even I n this Book in particular, as he plays during Mirri's fight with the muryan, to help the group shrug off Gwydion's general presence, and now directly in defiance of Gwydion himself.

Alex's solo charge encourages the muryan, letting them know that there is indeed a fight going on at the moment, and they might as well be Shee if they don't want to step in and join his dance.

Which they do with great abandon, and start pushing back the undead horde at least a little.

Now, Loht having muryan with him at the Obsidian Gate is from the Adventure Book.

What isn't from the Adventure Book is the aid that Maeve and her servants give our protagonists.

However, and this is an important however, the seed for the idea is very much in the Adventure Book.

It does directly say that in the case that the heroes are killed/driven off, forced to flee the Obsidian Gate and then the domain entirely in the hope that the very nature of Ravenloft itself will be able to contain Gwydion inside the Shadow Rift and prevent him from conquering the entire Core (which is not an unreasonable theory, though making it back to a fracture out of the Shadow Rift will be no easy feat) that Maeve will have a different plan for escape. Her plan to escape is to lead all of her trusted servants into the now open Obsidian Gate, and return to wherever Gwydion came from in the first place, expecting him not to double back (either out of blind arrogance or fear of being trapped again) as he searches for his missing servants.

So Maeve and all of her most trusted servants must be somewhere relatively close to the Obsidian Gate….

Likewise as I talked about the importance of the heroes journey in and of itself (accomplishing more by going on the journey than the actual quest item you've been seeking out) back in book three, and that particular sort of situation promptly unfolds itself again.

If you didn't realize it, the members of the Seelie Court who show up are the ones that the group has encountered in their trek through the Shadow Rift (portune and alven, with Maeve bringing the shee because of course she brings her own breed) and that is why there are no fir in this scene. It is a clever writing device and certainly not because I couldn't think of anything interesting to have the fir do during a great big pitched battle!

In the middle of the battle we get to see Florence reach the climax of her character arc, as after more or less a lifetime of despising the Shadow Fey, she comes within a hairs breadth of being turned into one herself. She manages to throw it off Gwydion's shadowmaker ability several times, but she is honest enough with herself to know/admit that if he'd have been able to pull it off indefinitely, it wouldn't even have taken a full hour for Gwydion to transform her into an Arak.

So, while Florence avoids a suffering a karmic transformation, she does show personal growth by choosing to stand side by side with the alven when they arrive, and match them spell for spell in their efforts to throw Gwydion back into Obsidian Gate.

With all these various factors working against him, and Gwydion still not quite believing that he can be defeated, Alex manages to reach Loht's side

If you were wondering, yes Alex could have just taken the Crown of Arak, or the Sword of Arak, or the whatever (amulet, boots, cloak, dagger, gloves, scepter or signet) of Arak into the Obsidian Gate, so long as he didn't throw all nine objects into the Gate at the same time.

He could have just grabbed the crown or the sword, and left Loht where he was… but surprise surprise after what he did to Lorelei in Book Five, Alex is not exactly a fan of Loht, so instead ops to toss him into the Obsidian Gate, thus saving the Shadow Rift from two tyrants with one throw.

So that is why he grabs Loht up completely (taking a moment to shake the crown loose from him head, both to make sure the sealing works and so that Maeve doesn't have to loose her father's final gift to her) Alex heads for the Obsidian Gate proper. Gwydion himself takes an interest at this point, but Iriwa manages to get the better of his tail through a series of acrobatics and athletics checks before unleashing a series of attacks.

Alex launches a number of knock-back attacks on Gwydion's undead servants knocking them back a few feet, which is pretty important when a few feet behind them there is no floor for them to stand on.

He manages to rush his way through Gwydion's wall of thorns, Florence blinds the eye before it can cast another spell, he jumps over and onto the tentacle, and then it happens.

One moment Gwydion is on the cusp of his greatest victory… the next he is slammed back into his cell with even less chance to escape from it.

Alex took part in such a wonderful fight that the muryan who survived simply couldn't possibly bring themselves to want to kill him. They might want to turn him into a changeling, but since Iriwa was the first one to start fighting alongside Alex, they figure she should have first crack at that particular honor.

The battle for the Shadow Rift ends and there is peace.

Which finally brings us to the epilogue.

Maeve as you can clearly guess sheds no particular tears over the death of her brother, just as she suspects (and is doubtlessly quite correctly that) he would have shed no tears over her own.

With Gwydion sealed and Loht dead, she is now the unquestioned ruler of the Shadow Rift, and thus feeling quite pleased with herself.

Which is why Maeve in a show of magnanimity gives the group one boon each.

Cal and Devi are most interested in material things, and after not making much money in Book Five it was about time that our heroes ended up securing another windfall, they need enough liquid cash on hand to set themselves up as business tycoons in Nosos after all!

James is interested in simply getting back the two things that the adventure had cost him, first his hat, and just now his harmonica.

Mirri is incorrect in thinking that having an icon of Kali would have actually defended her against Gwydion's command of the undead, or in general really do her much good unless she starts taking levels in cleric, but you can't expect most people in a D&D setting to actually be aware of the crunch behind faith based magical superpowers. Still, Mirri is asking for what she sees as the most reasonable/useful thing she can think of at the moment.

Alex has by this point recognized Iriwa (by her sword work if nothing else) and so wants a chance to try and settle matters with, as best as the possibly could be settled.

As it turns out there isn't much chance of that, many because to say matters are "settled" is to describe something as having come to an end.

What happens instead is Alex manages to start something new with Iriwa. Whatever her other faults, it is clear she has nothing but the greatest respect for her son, primarily because he lived up to her hopes of becoming a great warrior.

Florence's boon as you might have guessed ("some little twig") ended up being getting Iriwa promoted to being the new official ruler of/speaker for the muryan, and put in charge of restoring shadows to the people of Briggdarrow.

That's going be a task that takes some doing, (first you need to round up all the changelings, then you need to get a bunch of Arak and convince/order them to contribute some of their own shadow (costing them one point of charisma until the human who gets their shadow back dies) to the mix so that the human fully recovers from the experience.

It'll give Alex and Iriwa still more time to talk, and figure out what exactly they expect/think of one another.

What eventually happens between them/what kind of a compromise/agreement they can come to is a story for another book, for this one has come to its conclusion.


End file.
